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VENICE  AND  VENETIA 


BY 

EDWARD    HUTTON 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  CITIES  OF  UMBRIA,"   ETC. 


WITH   FOURTEEN    ILLUSTRATIONS   IN   COLOUR   BY 

MAXWELL  ARMFIELD 

AND   TWELVE   OTHER   ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORK 

THE    MAGMILLAN    COMPANY 

1911 


y 


kb 


M 


•       •    e    a« 
•„•    •    •-"  • 


TO 
C.  H.  and  E.  A.  A. 


226680 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.      VENETIA  AND  VENICE    .....  I 

II.      S.   MARK'S        ......  42 

III.  THE  DOGE'S  PALACE        .                .                               .  67 

IV.  PIAZZA  DI   S.   MARCO                ....  84 
V.      SESTIERE  DI  CASTELLO                  .                .                               -94 

VI.      SESTIERE  DI   S.   MARCO  I05 

VII.      SESTIERE  DI  CANNAREGIO           .               .               .                .  Il6 

VIII.      SESTIERI   DI   S.   CROCE  AND   S.   POLO              .                .  127 

IX.      SESTIERE  DI   DORSODURO            .                .                .                .  140 

X.      THE   ACADEMY               .....  I4& 

XI.      THE    ISLANDS    OF    THE    GIUDECCA    AND    S.    GIORGIO 

MAGGIORE       .  .  .  .  .  .167 

XII.      THE  LIDO,   S.  LAZZARO,   S.   SERVOLO,   AND  S.   ELENA  176 

XIII.      THE   ISLANDS  OF  S.   MICHELE  AND   MURANO                 .  1 87 


viii  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIV.      THE      ISLANDS     OF      BURANO,     TORCELLO,     AND  S. 

FRANCESCO  DEL  DESERTO            .               .               .  199 

XV.      TO  CHIOGGIA      ......      209 

XVI.      TO  TREVISO                  .                .               .               .               .  2l8 

XVII.      CASTELFRANCO  AND   BASSANO                 .               .  .      230 

XVIII.      PADUA             .                .                .                .               .               .  242 

XIX.      TWO   POETS  AND  THE   EUGANEAN   HILLS        .  .      264 

XX.      VICENZA         ......  274 

XXI.      VERONA                                 .               .               .               .  .284 

INDEX                                    .                .               .                .  -309 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

IN   COLOUR 

OUTSIDE  THE  WALLS,   PADOVA 


TORCELLO   FROM    BURANO  . 

S.   MARIA  DELLA  SALUTE,   VENICE 

S.   MARK'S,   VENICE   .  . 

THE  PIAZZETTA,   VENICE 

THE  GRAND  CANAL,  VENICE 

THE  GESUATI,   VENICE  .  .  . 

S.   GIORGIO,  VENICE 

THE  EUGANEAN  HILLS 

TORCELLO       .  .  .         .       .  , 

PALAZZO  EZZELINO  BALBO,   PADUA       . 

VICENZA  .  .  .  . 

VERONA   ..... 

THE  CLOISTER  OF  THE  DUOMO,   VERONA 


Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 
12 

•  38 
58 

•  84 
I06 

.        144 

168 
.        182 

206 
.        242 

274 
.        284 

302 


x  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

IN    MONOTONE 

FACING  PAGK 

PROCESSION  OF  THE  HOLY  CROSS        .  .  .  .48 

By  Gentile  Bellini,  in  the  Accademia,  Venice 
.  (Photo :  Brogi) 

THE  RAPE  OF  EUROPA  .....  78 

By  Paul  Veronese,  in  the  Doge's  Palace,  Venice 
(Photo  :  Alinari) 

MADONNA  ENTHRONED  WITH  SAINTS  .  .  .96 

By  Giovanni  Bellini,  in  the  Church  of  S.  Zaccaria 
(Photo :  Anderson) 

MADONNA   ENTHRONED         .....  102 

By  Antonio  da  Negroponte,  in  the  Church  of  S.  Francesco  della  Vigna 
(Photo :  Anderson) 

THE  SOLDIER  AND  THE  GIPSY  .  .  .  .122 

By  Giorgione,  in  the  Palazzo  Giovanelli,  Venice 
(Photo :  Alinari) 

CLEOPATRA    .  .  .  .  .  .  .126 

By  Tiepolo,  in  the  Palazzo  Labbia,  Venice 
(Photo :  Anderson) 

THE  PESARO    FAMILY,  DETAIL    FROM    THE    MADONNA    DEL 

PESARO  .  .  .  .  .  .136 

By  Titian,  in  the  Frari,  Venice 
(Photo  :  Anderson) 

THE    ENGLISH    AMBASSADORS    ASKING    FOR  THE    HAND  OF 

S.   URSULA  .  .  .  .  .  .156 

By  Carpaccio,  in  the  Accademia,  Venice 
(Photo :  Alinari) 

BACCHUS  AND  ARIADNE  .  .  .  .  .      164 

By  Tintoretto,  in  the  Doge's  Palace,  Venice 
(Photo :  Alinari) 

MARTYRDOM   OF  S.  CRISTOFORO     ....  256 

By  Andrea  Mantegna,  in  the  Eremitani,  Padua 
(Photo  :  Anderson) 

FIVE  SAINTS         .......      280 

By  Montagna,  in  the  Church  of  S.  Corona,  Vicenza 
(Photo  :  Anderson) 

ST.  GEORGE  AND  THE  PRINCESS     ....  298 

By  Pisanello,  in  the  Church  of  S.  Anastasia,  Verona 
(Photo:  Anderson) 


VENICE    AND    VENETIA 


VENICE    AND    VENETIA 


VENETIA  AND   VENICE 

THE  traveller  who,  on  his  way  to  Italy  from  the  North, 
should  have  the  patience,  perseverance,  or  curiosity 
to  cross  the  great  mountains  on  foot,  or  at  least  by  road, 
whether  he  attempt  them  by  the  Mont  Cenis,  the  Simplon, 
the  S.  Gotthard,  the  Spliigen,  or  the  Brenner,  will  find 
stretched  out  before  him  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  a  vast 
green  plain  in  which  he  will  see  the  distant  glitter  of  many  fair 
cities.  This  plain  in  his  first  joy  he  takes  to  be  Italy ;  in  fact, 
it  is  Cisalpine  Gaul.  Yet  he  is  partly  right  in  his  enthusiasm, 
for  this  great  plain,  so  tremendously  defended  on  the  north 
and  the  west  against  the  Germanies,  is  indeed  much  more 
Latin  in  its  history  and  civilization  than  Gallic  or  Teutonic, 
but  it  is  separated  from  Italy  by  a  very  considerable  bastion 
— the  bastion  of  the  Apennines,  though  it  may  not  be  com- 
pared with  that  which  defends  it  from  the  Germanies. 

This  vast  plain  thus  separated  from  the  world  on  the  north, 
the  west,  and  the  south,  is  guarded  on  the  east  by  the  sea. 
From  west  to  east  it  is  divided  into  two  not  unequal  parts  by 
a  great  river,  the  Po.  South  of  the  Po,  between  the  river  and 
the  Apennines,  it  is  divided  superficially  into  numerous 
districts  of  no  great  extent  by  many  rivers,  not  one  of  which 


2  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

is  of  any  great  importance,  and  all  of  which  are  tributaries  of 
the  Po.  But  with  these  provinces  to  the  south  of  the  great 
river,  under  the  shadow  as  it  were  of  the  Apennines,  and  so 
with  but  one  by  no  means  impassable  barrier  between  them 
and  Italy  proper,  it  is  not  my  purpose  to  deal  in  this  book. 
They  early  came  for  the  most  part  under  Italian  influence, 
and  are  to  this  day  the  more  Italian  parts  of  the  great  plain. 
Our  business  lies  with  that  part  of  this  vast  plain  which  lies  to 
the  north  of  the  Po  between  it  and  the  great  mountains,  and 
with  but  a  part  of  that,  the  eastern  part. 

For  the  great  plain  to  the  north  of  the  Po,  defended  by 
that  river  on  the  south,  by  the  Alps  on  the  north  and  west, 
and  on  the  east  by  the  sea,  is  in  itself  naturally  divided  into 
two  parts  by  the  Lake  of  Garda  and  the  Mincio,  which  runs 
out  of  it  into  the  Po.  The  province,  which  lies  to  the  west  of 
the  Mincio,  which  we  call  Lombardy,  whose  capital  from  time 
immemorial  has  been  Milan,  has  always  been  separate  from 
the  district  which  lies  to  the  east  of  the  Mincio,  which  we 
call  Venetia,  as  did  the  Romans.  This  last  and  eastern 
province,  unlike  the  others  which  all  together  form  the  whole 
vast  plain,  guarded  on  three  sides  by  the  mountains  and  on 
the  fourth  by  the  sea,  never  made  a  real  part  of  Cisalpine 
Gaul.  It  was  outside  the  great  command  which  Caesar  held 
when  he  crossed  the  Rubicon  to  conquer  Italy,  and  save  on 
its  north-eastern  frontier  it  possessed  then  the  same  frontiers 
as  it  does  to-day,  when  its  boundaries  are  the  Mincio,  the  Po 
to  its  mouth,  the  Adriatic  to  the  Austrian  frontier  on  this  side 
the  Isonzo,  and  the  Julian,  Carnic,  Dolomitic,  and  Rhaetian 
Alps. 

Venetia,  the  Veneto,  the  green  plain  thus  enclosed  and 
defended  by  nature,  is,  and  has  been  for  many  ages,  itself 
divided  into  districts  or  provinces  :  to  wit,  Venezia  proper,  the 
Friuli,  the  Marches  of  Treviso,  the  Polesine,  the  Padovano, 
and  the  Veronese ;  but  such  divisions  were  to  a  large  extent 
merely  political,  Venetia  being  divided  by  nature  into  but 
three  main  parts — the  mountains,  the  plain,  and  the  lagoons; 
It  is  with  the  two  latter  parts  we  propose  to  deal.     Now  as 


TENETIA  AND  VENICE  3 

the  mountains  made  the  rivers,  so  the  rivers  rising  in  the 
mountains  made  the  plain,  and  in  their  confluence  with  the 
sea  the  lagoons. 

In  looking  at  any  map  of  the  physical  configuration  of 
Europe  it  will  be  seen  how  the  mountains  roll  up  slowly  out 
of  the  plain  of  the  Germanies  till  they  break  in  a  great  crested 
wave  upon  this  Italian  shore.  The  steepness  of  this  wave,  the 
suddenness  of  its  breaking,  have  this  consequence,  that  the 
rivers  which  flow  southward  from  it  are  everywhere  rapid  in  the 
mountains  or  immediately  under  them,  as  at  Verona,  but  the 
plain  breaks  their  onslaught  so  that  very  soon  as  at  Mantua 
they  become  sluggish  and  spread  out  into  vast  marshes,  and 
indeed  it  is  only  the  tireless  energy  of  man  that  prevents  them 
now  as  in  the  past  from  turning  the  whole  plain  into  an 
incredible  morass.  Yet  to  this  onslaught  of  the  rivers — and 
all  have  much  the  same  character,  the  Po,  the  Mincio,  the 
Brenta,  the  Adige,  and  the  Piave — we  owe  the  whole  character 
of  the  plain  not  only  for  evil  but  for  good  also.  For  these 
rapid  and  torrential  streams  brought  to  the  plains  a  wealth  of 
soil  unknown  in  any  other  part  of  Italy,  and  the  continual 
danger,  the  necessity  for  a  tireless  war  against  nature,  bred  a 
hardy  and  industrious  people.  There  is  something  else,  too ; 
though  spiritual  as  it  is  and  not  material,  it  will  appeal  less  to 
the  thought  of  our  time.  The  rivers  which  thus  formed  the 
plain  and  gave  so  sturdy  a  character  to  the  inhabitants,  all 
flowed  eastward  into  the  Adriatic,  and  thus  the  cities  which 
were  built  there  beside  them  were  forced  to  look  eastward  too. 
In  the  terrible  revolutions  in  which  the  Western  Empire  fell 
this  fact  has  a  spiritual  importance  that  it  is  impossible  to 
exaggerate. 

If  the  mountains  and  the  rivers  made  the  plain  and  gave  it 
its  character,  the  rivers  and  the  sea  formed  that  other  essential 
part  of  the  Veneto,  I  mean  the  lagoons,  those  vast  and 
mysterious  lakes  of  tidal  water  separated  from  the  Adriatic  by 
long  and  narrow  stretches  of  sand  dunes  which  we  call  lidi. 
For  as  the  rivers  grew  weary  and  sluggish  in  the  immensity  of 
the  plain,  so  when  they  met  the  sea  they  had  no  energy  to 


4  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

battle  with  it  but  spread  out  in  deltas  j  and  the  tide,  slowly 
swirling  round  the  great  gulf  from  east  to  west,  meeting  the 
rivers  one  by  one,  heaped  up  their  alluvial  soil  in  those  long 
bars,  which  were  broken  here  and  there  by  the  tide  and  the 
storm,  so  that  they  formed  infinitely  long  and  narrow  islands, 
almost  enclosing  great  sheets  of  water,  mixed  of  salt  and  fresh, 
and  dotted  with  smaller  islands,  which,  as  we  might  suppose, 
were  more  continuous  towards  the  mainland,  where  the  force 
of  the  tide,  out  of  its  main  channel  there,  was  less,  and  the 
water  fresher,  a  mere  flood,  in  fact,  from  the  rivers,  which  might 
seem  to  have  lost  their  way  upon  that  vague  and  desolate  coast. 
These  lagoons  with  their  innumerable  islands  stretch  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Isonzo  on  the  north  to  the  mouth  of  the  Po  on 
the  south,  forming  a  vague  and  mysterious  world  between  sea 
and  shore.  Only  one  of  them,  however,  was  to  win  any 
importance  in  history — the  lagoon  of  Venice,  which  has  had  so 
great  an  influence  upon  the  world.  This  lagoon  is  set  some- 
what nearer  to  the  mouth  of  the  Po  than  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Isonzo  in  the  deepest  bend  of  that  concave  shore.  Guarded 
on  the  north  by  the  now  canalized  Piave,  and  on  the  south  by 
the  canalized  Brenta,  on  the  west  by  an  impassable  marsh, 
and  on  the  east  by  the  lidi  and  the  sea,  it  is  some  hundred 
and  sixty  square  miles  in  extent,  thirty-five  miles  long,  and  at 
its  greatest  some  seven  miles  wide.  It  too  is  set  with  in- 
numerable islands,  the  chief  of  which  formed  the  foundation 
of  the  city  of  Venice,  in  the  midst  of  the  lagoon  guarded  on  all 
sides  by  miles  of  shallow  water. 

Such  is  the  threefold  character  of  Venetia  when  we  first 
come  upon  it,  in  the  writings  of  Strabo,  as  a  province  of 
Rome.  It  was  then  peopled,  so  far  as  the  mainland  was 
concerned,  for  the  lagoons  were  but  vaguely  inhabited,  by  the 
Heneti  or  Veneti,  a  race  of  which  we  know  nothing  but  who 
seem  to  have  been  immigrants  from  Asia  Minor.  The  Heneti 
came  to  be  threatened  by  the  Gauls  of  the  middle  and  upper 
valley  of  the  Po,  and  their  entry  into  Roman  civilization  and 
government  seems  to  have  been  made  for  the  sake  of  protec- 
tion against  these  tribes.     They  sent  assistance  to  the  Roman 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  5 

armies  in  their  expedition  against  the  Gauls,  and  were  eventu- 
ally absorbed  into  that  vast  Empire  we  still  regret  which  it  will 
be  the  noblest  business  of  mankind  to  build  again. 

There  followed,  as  might  be  expected,  a  period  of  prosperity 
for  Venetia  such  as  it  has  scarcely  known  since.  Not  only 
was  the  vast  agricultural  wealth  of  the  province  developed,  but 
great  and  rich  cities  arose  within  its  borders.  Thus  Padua 
was  born  and  Treviso,  Verona  arose  and  Vicenza,  Aquileia 
flourished,  which  now  is  nothing — a  village  of  a  thousand  in- 
habitants ; — while  great  ports  were  opened  along  that  vague 
coast :  Adria,  Altinum,  Grado,  and  Ravenna ;  and  the  im- 
perishable roads  of  Rome  thrust  their  way  across  the  mountains 
and  through  the  marshes  and  over  the  plains  bearing  her 
armies,  and  behind  her  arms  the  wealth,  the  civilization,  the 
order,  the  art  of  the  world.  Padua  was  so  rich  that  in  the 
time  of  Augustus  it  was  called  the  richest  city  in  Upper  Italy ; 
in  Sermione  Catullus  sang  in  exile,  in  Mantua  was  Virgil 
bom,  while  Verona  was  the  German  gate,  barred  and  very 
strong. 

Such  was  the  state  of  Venetia  before  the  Empire  fell.  Its 
condition  since,  save  for  that  city  that  was  to  rise  out  of  the 
sea,  that  was  not  yet  founded,  has  been  till  our  own  day  an 
almost  unrelieved  disaster.  Before  that  fall  there  was  im- 
mutable peace,  a  vast  plenty,  an  unimaginable  security  and 
happiness ;  after  it,  terror,  unbroken  war,  starvation,  tyranny, 
and  defeat.     The  Empire  fell.     Why  ? 

Let  us  make  no  mistake;  such  a  question,  tremendous  as  it 
is,  is  not  beside  the  point  here.  Out  of  that  fall  Venice  rose ; 
and  then  we  must  never  forget,  here  in  the  Veneto  we  are 
upon  the  frontier.  That  vast  range  of  mountains  we  see  to  the 
north  is  the  last  watershed,  it  drains  into  the  Danube.  Yonder 
lies  all  the  mystery  of  the  Germanies:  the  barbarism  that  all 
but  unmade  Europe,  that  broke  it  again  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  that  even  to-day  is  but  waiting  its  opportunity  for 
a  new  conquest. 

Why  did  the  Empire  fall  ?  And  to  begin  with  let  us  console 
ourselves   with   this   assurance,  that  not   all   the   Germanies 


6  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

together  could  have  sundered  it  had  not  an  inward  rottenness 
invited  so  wild  a  blow. 

We  have  seen  Venetia  glorious  with  cities,  the  whole  vast 
plain  traversed  by  roads,  the  ports  open  and  flourishing,  the 
lands  tilled,  the  whole  province  filled  with  people.  Where 
was  its  weakness,  in  what  lay  its  decline? 

Perhaps  in  mere  old  age,  a  certain  languor  and  weariness, 
half  spiritual,  half  physical,  a  need  of  repose  or  recreation. 
But  assuredly  if  this  were  so — and  it  is  certainly  doubtful 
whether  an  universal  thing  like  the  Empire  can  know  old  age 
and  weariness — assuredly  this  was  not  the  only  if  even  the 
chief  cause.  That  might  seem  to  have  been,  so  far,  that 
is,  as  it  was  not  a  result  of  an  universal  mongrelism,  the 
worst  enemy  of  Roman  civilization  as  of  ours,  a  decline 
of  wealth,  a  flaw  in  the  means  of  distributing  wealth  which 
the  Empire  had  so  carefully  fostered  and  with  so  splendid 
a  success. 

Hearing  men  talk  and  reading  the  history  of  our  professional 
historians,  a  mere  man  of  letters  may  be  excused  if  he  often 
wonders  whether  these  writers  so  eagerly  national,  and  most  of 
them  on  what  might  seem  such  precarious,  even  false,  grounds, 
ever  really  were  able  to  understand  what  the  Empire  was, 
what  in  any  thoughtful  contemplation  of  life,  of  the  history  of 
man,  it  really  meant.  While  it  remained  we  were  one,  since  it 
departed  there  has  been  only  war.  Even  in  Britain,  the  last 
of  the  provinces,  the  writers  I  have  alluded  to  never  seem 
to  understand  that  for  some  350  to  400  years  there  was 
a  majestic  civilization  which  was  our  common  heritage  with 
our  fellows — that  there  was  for  all  great  purposes  but  one 
language  common  to  the  Empire,  that  for  more  than  150 
years,  Britain  was  Christian  and  enjoyed  with  the  rest  of 
the  Empire  one  official  religion,  that  above  all  there  was 
peace. 

The  Pax  Romana !  we  have  spoken  of  it  ever  since  with  a 
kind  of  longing.  Well,  that  was  Rome.  From  the  day  when 
Alaric  took  the  City,  24  August,  410,  we  have  never  known  it 
since,  not  for  one  hour.     With  all  our  modern  contrivance!, 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  7 

our  cleverness,  our  mechanical  genius,  we  have  not  been  able 
to  establish  just  that.1 

The  Pax  Romana,  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  the 
Empire,  was  domestic  as  well  as  political.  It  ensured  a 
complete  and  absolute  order,  the  condition  of  civilization. 
This  peace,  established  through  many  generations,  seemed 
immutable  and  unbreakable,  and  with  it  went  a  concep- 
tion of  property  more  fundamental  than  anything  we  have 
been  able  to  understand,  while  free  exchange  was  assured 
by  a  complete  system  of  communication  and  admirable 
laws. 

What  can  have  destroyed  our  Empire,  so  splendid  and 
so  strong?  I  have  said  it  was  mongrelism,  an  almost 
universal  mixture  of  incompatible  races,  and  an  economic 
flaw  that  brought  Rome  down  and  with  her  the  world.  Those 
flaws,  at  any  rate,  are  obvious,  and  in  somewhat  the  same  way 
everywhere  threaten  the  laborious  structure  of  our  civilization 
to-day,  and  more  surely,  for  our  civilization  stands  on  a  costly 
and  insecure  foundation  of  armaments. 

That  universal  mongrelism,  the  advent  of  the  Jew,  and  the 
destruction  of  several  aristocracies,  are  obvious.  Less  clear  is 
the  fact  that  the  wealth  that  the  Empire  was  so  admirably 
fitted  to  accumulate,  which  it  did  accumulate  with  so  splendid 
a  success,  was  wrongly  distributed.  Too  soon,  certainly  in 
the  time  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  the  means  of  production  had 
come  into  a  comparatively  few  hands,  but  not  upon  them  fell 
the  burden  of  the  State.  I  do  not  speak  of  the  lower  class, 
still  less  of  the  slaves  ;  I  speak  of  the  higher  bourgeoisie,  they 
held  up  great  Rome.  When  they  became  impoverished 
Rome  fell ;  when  they  became  impoverished,  as  they  did  at 
last  everywhere  throughout  the  Empire,  it  was  worth  no  man's 
while  to  hold  up  the  State.     They  were  tired,  call  it  old  age  if 

1  What  I  mean  will  perhaps  be  more  obvious  to  the  reader  when  I 
say  that  in  1909-1910  England,  France,  Germany,  Austria,  Spain,  and 
Italy  were  spending  near  two  hundred  millions  sterling  per  annum  on 
their  armies  alone,  and  this  not  against  any  barbarian,  but  against  one 
another. 


8  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

you  will,  many  of  them  fell  into  a  servile  condition.  Rome 
fell,  and  with  Rome  the  world. 

These  men  who  for  more  than  five  hundred  years  had 
borne  the  weight  of  that  great  government  must  have  been 
numerous  in  the  Veneto.  They  decayed  through  many  years. 
Slowly,  yes,  and  foreseen  the  crisis  came,  the  frontiers  were 
broken,  the  Germanies  rushed  in.  After  Africa  and  Britain,  I 
suppose  there  was  no  province  which  suffered  more  grievously 
than  Venetia. 

I  say  the  crisis  was  foreseen :  it  was,  it  must  have  been ; 
but  no  one,  prophet  or  statesman,  dreamed,  or  in  any  way 
foreboded,  the  fall  of  the  Empire.  It  seemed  imperishable, 
founded  for  ever,  indestructible,  deathless.     Yet  it  fell. 

A  man  living  at  that  time  in  Verona,  anywhere  in  Venetia, 
must  often  have  seen  the  barbarians,  must  often  have  laughed 
at  them,  for  they  were  admitted,  though  in  small  numbers, 
within  the  Empire.  That  he  ever  dreamed  of  the  revolt  we 
may  well  doubt.  Insecurity  was  not  a  haunting  dread  to  the 
man  of  the  Empire  as  it  is  to  us. 

At  any  rate,  whatever  he  may  have  thought,  he  was  not  pre- 
pared for  Alaric's  descent  on  Venetia  in  November,  401,  he 
was  not  prepared  for  the  fall  of  Aquileia,  he  was  not  prepared 
for  the  siege  of  Verona,  cities  of  the  Empire.  Yet  with  a  vast 
astonishment  he  saw  all  swept  away.  Claudian  speaks  of  such 
an  one,  an  old  husbandman  of  Verona,  watching  his  trees, 
"  his  contemporary  trees,"  burning  in  his  orchards,  his  vines 
trampled  underfoot,  his  cottage,  his  family,  his  happiness 
swept  away  before  his  eyes.  Was  there  no  rage  in  such  a 
man  ?  Of  what  avail  was  rage  against  the  iron  teeth  of  this 
Germanic  horde  !  "  Fame,"  says  Claudian,  "  encircling  with 
terror  her  gloomy  wings,  proclaimed  the  march  of  the  barbarian 
and  filled  Italy  with  terror."  Yet  this  was  but  the  first  blow. 
Already  on  the  far  shores  of  the  Baltic,  in  the  impassable 
mountains  of  Asia,  the  wolves  gathered.     Night  fell. 

That  night,  filled  with  an  unspeakable  horror  and  fear, 
endured  for  near  four  hundred  years.  In  it  we  see  pass 
figures  so  terrible  that  they  can  never  be  forgotten  or  pass 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  9 

away,  they  live  for  ever  in  the  legends  of  the  people,  the  only 
literature  of  the  Fall.  Some  of  these  figures,  rude  and  uncouth 
though  they  be,  we  might  almost  admire  but  for  their  wolfish 
business,  some  are  so  appalling  that  it  is  only  in  the  image  of 
beasts  we  hear  of  them  :  Attila  smeared  with  blood,  panting 
like  a  wolf,  with  long  hooked  teeth  looking  for  prey ;  Genseric, 
the  scourge  of  God  ;  Totila,  who  left  the  City  silent ;  and  other 
nameless  things  there  were  that  feasted  upon  the  ruins,  roar- 
ing out  of  the  Germanies,  their  eyes  bright  from  the  darkness 
of  the  forests  j  they  came,  they  filled  Italy.  Till  there  was,  so 
at  last  they  cried  one  to  another  in  that  guttural  tongue,  no 
more  to  destroy.  They  were  wrong  ;  there  was  this  :  the  soul 
of  Europe. 

In  the  darkest  and  most  impenetrable  hour  of  that  appalling 
night  the  Church  arose  and  cried  for  vengeance.  She  was 
heard,  she  was  answered.  Faintly,  far  off  in  the  defiles  of  the 
Alps,  winding  over  the  passes  and  the  snow,  there  came  the 
horns  of  Charlemagne.  The  sword  of  Europe  was  unscabbarded ; 
La  Joyeuse  flashed  in  the  sun  of  Italy.  Charlemagne  fell 
upon  the  heathen  and  scattered  them,  and  from  his  anger 
there  was  no  escape.  In  a  moment  all  was  changed.  Like 
one  of  those  gaunt  cities  that  on  the  confines  of  the  desert  of 
Africa  still  attest  the  Roman  name,  the  Empire  suddenly 
reappeared,  terrible,  exalted,  indestructible.  In  the  court  of 
S.  Peter's,  on  the  feast  of  the  Nativity  in  the  year  800,  Leo, 
our  Pope,  crowned  Charlemagne  Emperor.    Europe  was  saved. 

Europe  was  saved,  but  not  all  at  once.  The  anarchy  of  the 
ninth  century  was,  if  possible,  more  appalling  than  any  which 
had  preceded  it,  but  the  achievement  of  Charlemagne,  above 
all  his  crowning  in  S.  Peter's  at  the  hand  of  the  Pope,  ensured 
the  slow  rebuilding  of  Latin  Power,  that  infinitely  gradual 
resurrection  of  Europe,  of  the  Empire,  which,  proceeding 
infallibly  through  many  hundreds  of  years,  came  to  its  own  in 
the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  and  of  which  the  modern 
world  is  but  the  latest,  I  cannot  believe  the  last,  result. 

Those  centuries  which  had  seen  the  hope  and  order  of  the 
world  swept  away  are  properly  known  to  history  as  the  Dark 


io  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

Ages.  They  alone  created  nothing,  but  on  the  contrary  com- 
pelled even  Europe  to  return  to  the  habits  of  the  forest,  the 
despair  of  Asia,  the  dumbness  of  the  beast.  We  know  nothing 
of  them ;  they  are  a  vast  hiatus  in  our  history.  Before  them 
there  is  the  Day  and  after  them  the  Dawn  j  themselves  are  an 
unfathomable  night.     They  passed  :  Deo  gratias. 

I  say  they  created  nothing.  On  the  contrary,  they  aban- 
doned everything;  this  can  be  illustrated  in  any  one  of  the 
provinces  of  the  Empire :  in  Britain  for  instance,  at  St. 
Albans,  where  the  site  of  the  British  city  had  been  changed  by 
the  Romans,  yet  the  barbarians  returned  to  it.  They  created 
nothing,  they  conserved  nothing — they  were  only  barbarians. 
Yet  as  it  were  in  spite  of  themselves  they  were  the  cause  of 
the  foundation  by  Latin  genius,  patience,  and  endurance  of 
one  very  great  and  splendid  thing.  Here  in  Venetia  we  should 
remember  it.     I  mean  the  city  of  Venice. 

It  is  true  that  to  its  dying  day — and  all  things  must  pass 
away — Venice  will  carry  the  birth-mark,  the  scar  of  her  genesis. 
She  is  of  the  Dark  Ages,  and  in  her  whole  aspect,  in  her  archi- 
tecture, her  government  and  her  history  we  may  perceive  it, 
and  may  indeed  trace  to  it  her  future  and  the  long  captivity 
which  she  alone  of  all  the  provinces  of  Italy  was  called  upon 
to  endure.  She  never  was,  she  never  will  be  wholly  European  ; 
yet  in  another  and  as  true  a  sense  she  is  the  one  thing  we 
were  able  to  create  in  those  years  of  horror — the  child  of 
terror  and  fear — our  child  though  by  a  barbarian  father. 

The  parent  city  of  Venice,  if  indeed  any  may  claim  that 
honour,  was  Aquileia,  that  great  Roman  place  at  the  head  of 
the  Gulf  of  the  Adriatic,  and  we  shall  best  understand  the 
foundation  of  Venice  by  glacing  at  the  fortune  of  this  city 
during  the  Dark  Ages. 

Aquileia  had  suffered  many  sieges  from  the  time  when  the 
Empire  began  to  feel  the  first  stirrings  of  the  anarchy  which 
at  last  left  her  at  the  mercy  of  those  appalling  hordes,  wave 
after  wave,  of  barbarism.  In  238  she  had  been  besieged  by 
Maximus  and  had  repulsed  him  very  gloriously.  In  361  she 
had  suffered  the  attack  of  Jovinus.     In  388  she  was  taken  by 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  n 

Theodosius  and  that  was  a  sort  of  deliverance.  These  affairs 
but  presaged  what  was  to  be  the  fate  of  that  almost  im- 
pregnable fortress  which  held  the  road  to  Rome.  Her 
appalling  destiny  began  to  be  fulfilled  in  the  year  401,  when 
Alaric  and  his  Goths,  fallen  like  an  avalanche  from  the  moun- 
tains, thundered  at  her  gates.  In  406,  about  the  time  of  the 
vintage,  they  are  said  to  have  pillaged  her  with  her  sister 
Altinum.  Yet  Latin  as  she  was  she  persisted,  she  lived,  she 
was  not  destroyed.  A  worse  fate  awaited  her ;  it  was  not  to 
the  rude  chivalry  of  the  Goths  she  was  to  render  her  life  but 
to  that  yellow  butcher  Attila  and  the  Huns.  Aquileia  was  at 
that  time,  in  spite  of  everything,  one  of  the  richest,  most 
populous  and  strongest  of  the  maritime  cities  of  the  Adriatic 
coast.1  Attila  laid  siege  to  her  in  452,  for  three  months  in 
vain.  Indeed,  he  had  been  compelled  by  the  yelping  of  his 
own  wolves  to  order  the  raising  of  the  siege,  when,  so  the  story 
goes,  riding  round  the  walls  on  the  last  morning  in  his  anger, 
by  chance  he  saw  a  stork  preparing  to  leave  her  nest  in  one  of 
the  towers  of  the  great  city  and  to  fly  with  her  young  into  the 
country.  In  that  act  of  his  fellow-beast  he  saw  an  assurance 
of  victory.  He  hounded  his  Huns  to  the  assault,  and  no  man 
since  that  day  has  found  even  the  ruins  of  Aquileia.2  Attila 
marched  on  :  Altinum,  Concordia,  and  Padua  shared  the  same 
ruin.  Vicenza  and  Verona  he  too  consumed.  In  that 
night  such  as  might  flee,  fled  away,  doubtless  demanding  of 
God  whither  they  should  go.     God  led  them  to  the  lagoons. 

We  have  already  in  some  sort  analyzed  the  aspect  and 
geography  of  Venetia,  and  have  certainly  made  it  clear  what 
the  lagoons  were  and  what  sort  of  a  refuge  they  offered.  As 
it  proved,  they  provided  a  secure  sanctuary  to  these  fugitives 
for  many  hundreds  of  years ;  they  were,  in  fact,  impregnable 
to  any  armies  save  those  of  the  modern  world . 

1  Cf.  Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall  (ed.  Bury),  vol.  iii,  pp.  467-8. 

8  Cf.  Gibbon,  op  cit.,  vol.  iii,  p.  468.  Jornandes  affirms  a  hundred  years 
later  that  Aquileia  was  so  utterly  destroyed  :  "  Ita  ut  vix  ejus  vestigia  ut 
appareant  reliquerint. "  Even  the  name  was  applied  to  quite  another 
place. 


12  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

What  the  fugitives  saw  before  them  was  a  vast  and  shallow 
lake  of  salt  water,  in  shape  a  vast  crescent  guarded  all  about 
by  impassable  marsh  and  before  by  the  lidi  and  the  sea.  This 
lake,  scattered  with  islands,  and  held,  perhaps,  by  a  few  fisher 
folk,  was  of  very  great  extent,  as  we  have  seen,  and  nowhere  of 
much  depth,  but  impassable  by  any  army,  certainly  by  any 
army  of  barbarians.     Here  the  fugitives  were  safe. 

There  was  no  organized  exodus,  of  course.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  fugitives  doubtless  came  thither  as  stragglers 
during  the  years  of  the  Terror.  They  can  have  brought  little 
with  them  ;  they  were  probably  almost  naked,  they  were 
certainly  without  any  organization,  but  they  were  Latin,  all  that 
was  left  of  Latin  civilization  after  the  Hunish  deluge.  They 
began  to  arrive  in  452  ;  in  466  they  have  already  formed  a 
sort  of  State,  precarious,  doubtless,  and  only  temporary  in  its 
idea  \  the  lagoons  were  still  to  them  a  mere  refuge  till  they 
could  return.  It  was  not  till  the  invasion  of  the  Longobards, 
a  hundred  years  later,  that  they  realized  once  for  all  that 
there  would  be  no  return,  that  any  such  attempt  was  im- 
possible. In  568  they  built  Torcello — that  it  might  endure ; 
later  they  occupied  Malamocco  and  Rialto,  islands  of  the 
lagoon.  They  knew  they  were  a  remnant;  but  they  were 
prepared  to  go  on. 

We  know  nothing  of  that  early  settlement,  but  we  can,  per- 
haps, imagine  it  from  the  character  of  the  lagoons — a  vague 
world  of  low  islands  composed  of  mud  and  sand  through 
which  twice  a  day  the  tide  swept  in  deep  and  unknown 
channels,  by  which  alone  the  islands  could  be  approached 
from  the  sea  and  which  were  hidden  in  the  vast  expanse  of 
shallow  water.  Yet  it  was  not  altogether  a  new  thing,  this 
building  of  a  town  really  upon  the  sea ;  the  wonder  of  Venice, 
now  so  unique,  blinds  us  to  that  fact,  yet  it  was  not  without  a 
sort  of  precedent. 

Cassiodorus,  the  friend  and  secretary  of  Theodoric  the 
Great,  the  founder  of  the  Ostrogothic  monarchy  who  at  the 
end  of  that  disastrous  fifth  century  secured  for  Italy  a  peace  of 
more  than  thirty  years,  has  by  chance  left  us  a  description  of 


1    >     ■>    •> 

>1  I    V 


VENETIA   AND  VENICE  13 

the  first  Venetian  settlement  which  brings  it  vividly  before  our 
eyes.  He  shows  us  a  people  largely  engaged  in  fishery  and 
for  the  most  part  living  on  what  they  could  win  from  the  sea. 
They  had  driven  piles  into  the  mud  to  hold  it  from  the  tide, 
binding  them  together  with  wattles  and  rushes,  they  had  con- 
served the  rainfall  in  pozzi,  and  their  dwellings  were  all  made 
of  wattle,  "  built  like  sea-birds'  nests,  half  on  sea  and  half  on 
land,  spread,  as  the  Cyclades,  over  the  surface  of  the  waters." 
Such  also  had  been  the  foundation  of  Ravenna  many  centuries 
before.  It  too,  from  which  the  sea  is  now  so  far,  had  been 
built  upon  the  waves  upon  piles  driven  into  the  mud  of  the 
southernmost  part  of  the  vast  lagoon,  and  there  from  the  time 
of  Augustus  the  navy  of  Rome  had  found  a  permanent  station. 

But  it  cannot  have  been  for  long  that  Venice  remained  a 
mere  settlement.  In  those  disastrous  days  the  refugees 
quickly  increased,  bringing  with  them  bricks  or  clay  for  bricks 
from  the  mainland  and  some  stone,  as  little  by  little  what  had 
been  a  mere  refuge  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  permanent  settle- 
ment, a  great  village,  a  town,  and  at  last  a  city.  Such  brick 
houses  as  were  set  up  may  still  be  seen  almost  anywhere  on 
the  islands  of  the  lagoon  save  at  Venice  itself — at  Burano,  at 
Torcello,  and  at  S.  Francesco.  They  were  one  storey  high  and 
in  the  midst  a  courtyard  was  set ;  here  one  beat  out  the  corn, 
or  dried  the  fish,  while  above  the  house  was  an  open  loggia 
whence  one  might  see  and  signal  those  far  out  on  the  vague 
waters.  Before  the  house,  between  it  and  the  lagoon,  a  road- 
way or  path  was  built  of  beaten  mud  strengthened  with  piles 
and  guarded  with  wattles  ;  this  was  called,  as  it  is  to-day,  the 
jundamenta  and  was,  in  fact,  a  continuation  of  the  actual 
foundation  of  the  house. 

It  was  not,  however,  only  on  the  islands  we  now  call  Venice 
that  these  settlements  were  made  and  these  cottages  built ; 
indeed,  the  island  of  Rialto  was  among  the  last  to  be  oc- 
cupied. The  refugees,  as  we  know,  at  least  in  the  first 
instance,  came  from  Aquileia,  very  far  away  from  Venezia ; 
they  settled  first  on  those  islands  or  mud  banks  nearest  to 
them,  yet  far  enough  away  for   safety;    Grado  surely  first, 


14  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

Carole,    Heraclea,    Torcello,    Burano,    Malamocco,    Rialto, 

Chioggia,  and  one  may  think  somewhat  in  that  order.     But 

the  first  permanent  settlement  of  which  we  have  any  record 

or  any  legend  is  that  which  the  people   of  Altinum    made 

at   Torcello  when   they  fled   before  the   Lombards   in   568. 

They  were  the  last  to  flee  ;  possibly  they  were  the  landowners 

and  fled  at  last  only  when  it  was  death  to  stay,  since  they 

could  not  take  their  wealth  with  them.     They  seem  to  have 

been,  Roman  as  they  still  were,  under  the  command  of  their 

Bishop,  whose  name  was  Paulus.     They  had  seen  the  flight 

of  their  friends  to  Ravenna  and  to  Istria,  but  when  at  last 

they  too   had  to   go   they  did   so   deliberately,  fasting   and 

praying  for  three  days  ere  they  went  forth.     Also  they  asked 

of  God  a  sign  such  as  He  gave  to  Israel  to   direct   them 

whither  they  should  go.     And  it  was  as  they  desired,  for  out 

of  the  night  came  a  Voice  like  thunder  which  said,  "  Go  ye 

up  to  the  tower  and   consider  the   stars."    And  Paulus  the 

Bishop  went  up  to  the  top  of  the  tower  of  his. church  and 

saw  the  stars  set  in  the  sea  of  the  heavens  as  so  many  bright 

islands  in  the  lagoon,  and  he  understood  and  led  forth  his 

people,  and  they  came  presently  across  the  vast  marsh  to  a  low 

island  and  rested  there  and  called  the  place  Torcello,  because 

of  the  tower  from  which  the  vision  had  been  vouchsafed  them. 

Now,  as  the  legend  tells,  there  was  with  Paulus  the  Bishop, 

a  priest,  possibly  his  chaplain,  named  Marcus.     To  this  man 

it  was  given  to  see  in  a  vision :   "  As  I  went  along  the  lido 

a  great  cloud  all  of  white,  and  within  as  it  were  two  stars 

like  the  sun  for  brightness,  and  I  heard  a  voice  like  unto 

many  waters  saying,   *  I  am  the  Saviour  and  Lord  of  all  the 

earth;  that  ground  whereon  thou   art  I  give  to  thee,  build 

there  a  church   in  My  name.'      And  after  I  heard   another 

voice  softer  than  the  morning  dew  which  said,  '  I  am  Mary, 

Mother  of  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  I  would  that  thou  built 

a  church  in  my  honour  also.' "     Nor  were  these  all  the  visions 

he  had,  for  Peter  the  Prince  of  the  Apostles,  St.  Autolinus, 

S.  Giustina,  and  S.  John  the  Baptist  also  appeared  to  him. 

What  are  we  to  make  of  such  a  legend  ? 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  15 

This  at  least,  that  the  ecclesiastical  power  had  at  last  been 
compelled  to  forsake  the  mainland ;  and  this,  too,  which 
follows  from  that  fact,  namely,  that  it  is  now  a  permanent 
immigration  with  which  we  are  dealing ;  churches  are  to  be 
built,  not  one  merely,  but  many. 

And  note  this :  Christ  gives  the  land  to  the  people.     You 
do  not  give  away  a  gift  like  that,  nor  do   you  easily  admit 
any   other   suzerain.     Venice   never  did.      Yet  just   that   is 
what  she  had  to  decide  almost  at  once.     For  the  settlements 
grew  in  that  fearful  anarchy  and  flourished  in  the  peace  of 
the  sea.     A  race  of  sailors  was  founded  which  even  to-day 
is  not  extinct,  and  already  in  the  sixth  century   they   find 
their  occupation  in  transport,  which  was  to  bring  so  much 
wealth  and  fame  later.     Even    before  568  Narses  had  paid 
the  Venetians,  as  I  shall  now  call  them,  though  Venice  was 
not  yet  founded,  to  transport  his  troops  from  Grado  to  the 
Brenta.      It    was   a   little   later   that    the   Paduans   claimed 
dominion  over  the  islands  of  the  lagoon  from  Narses,  but 
when  he  heard  that  God  had  given  them  to  the  people  who 
held  them  he  would  not  decide.     When  the  Lombards  came 
— another  pack  of  wolves — Longinus,  representing  the  Eastern 
Empire,  paid  the  Venetians  to  escort  him  to  Byzantium ;  this 
they  did  gladly,  but  when  he  would  have  them  declare  them- 
selves subjects  to  his  Emperor  they  would  not,  for  said  they, 
"  God,  who  is  our  help  and  protector,    has  saved   us,  that 
we   might  dwell  upon  these   waters.     This   second   Venetia 
which  we  have  raised  in  the  lagoon  is  a  mighty  habitation  for 
us.     No  power  of  Emperor  or  Prince  can  reach  us,  and  of 
them  we  have  no  fear."     In  these  words  the  State  of  Venice 
was  founded,  the  first  nation,  a  Latin  nation,  to  emerge  out 
of  the  ruins  of  the  Empire.     In  the  quarrel  of  East  and  West 
that  claim  grew  ever  clearer,  yet  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
Venice  thus  founded  upon  the  sea  looked  in  fact  East,  and, 
though  never  pledging  herself,  did   for  her  own  ends  make 
a  formal  act  of  submission  to  Byzantium,  and  that  Maurice 
the   Cappadocian  in  584  conferred  her  first   diploma  upon 
her  as  a  separate  State. 


1 6  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

For  more  than  a  century  then,  the  little  communities  of 
the  lagoon  had  been  governed  by  elected  officers,  called 
Tribunes,  each  Tribune  representing  an  island,  Heraclea 
being  the  most  important.  In  the  year  that  diploma  was 
received  these  Tribunes  were  doubled,  the  original  Tribune 
remaining  at  the  head  of  affairs  in  the  island,  the  new  one 
joining  with  his  fellows  from  the  other  islands  to  form  a 
sort  of  federal  government.  This  was  the  first  step  towards 
administrative  unity.  That  it  did  not  succeed  goes  without 
saying,  but  it  was  a  necessary  step  doubtless,  and  when  the 
Patriarch  of  Grado  summoned  a  great  meeting  of  the  people 
of  this  new  Venetia  at  Heraclea  in  697  they  were  ready 
to  suppress  the  Tribunal  federal  government  and  to  elect  a 
leader,  a  Dux,  a  Doge.  Thus  before  the  end  of  the  seventh 
century  the  actual  unity  of  Venice  was  secured. 

Yet  not  without  a  struggle.  The  chief  need,  the  pro- 
ound  aspiration  of  Venice  then,  as  always,  was  for  in- 
dependence; but  in  the  confusion  of  the  world,  the  vast 
struggle  that  was  going  on  on  the  mainland,  this  was  not  easy 
to  secure.  Inevitably  two  parties  appear  in  the  State,  each, 
we  may  believe,  intent  upon  securing  her  independence  in 
its  own  way.  Very  roughly  we  may  call  them  aristocratic 
and  democratic.  The  first  looked  eastward  to  Byzantium 
and  saw,  or  pretended  to  see,  there  the  ruler  of  the  world 
and  the  necessary  protector  of  their  city ;  it  was  also  in- 
clined to  make  the  Dogeship  hereditary.  The  other,  more 
clairvoyant  of  the  future  maybe,  looked  to  the  Church  and 
the  Western  world.  It  was  in  Heraclea  that  the  first  party 
had  its  stronghold,  where  Anafesto,  the  first  Doge,  had  his 
seat.  But  the  second  party  was  strong  in  Jesolo  and 
Malamocco. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Venice  had  already  received 
a  diploma  from  Byzantium;  it  must  have  been  about  the 
time  of  the  emergence  of  these  two  parties  that  she  made 
her  first  treaty  with  Liutprand,  King  of  the  Lombards 
(709).  That  this  was  necessary  all  were  ready  to  admit,  for 
the  future  of  Venice  lay  in  commerce,  and  such  an  under- 


VENETIA  AND   VENICE  17 

standing  with  her  neighbours  of  the  mainland  was  necessary 
to  her.  But  what  is  important  to  us  is  that  thus  at  the 
entrance  into  this  internal  struggle  she  started  as  it  were  on 
an  even  keel ;  she  had  entered  into  relations  both  with  the 
East  and  with  the  West. 

This  is  no  place  to  discover  to  the  reader  the  progress 
of  that  quarrel,  it  has  been  told  well  many  times,1  and  it  was 
always  too  much  at  the  mercy  of  the  tremendous  forces,  of 
the  mainland,  of  the  two  Empires,  of  the  Church,  for  us  to 
be  able  to  follow  it  in  such  a  book  as  this .  But  what  really 
emerges  is  this.  To  the  mind  of  the  world  at  that  time  and 
for  many  centuries  after  it  was  utterly  inconceivable  that 
the  Empire  had  passed  away.  Of  such  a  place  as  Venice  every- 
one would  ask  :  To  which  Empire  does  it  belong — to  the  East 
or  to  the  West  ?  The  Venetians  themselves,  intent  as  they  were 
on  independence,  asked  themselves  the  question.  We  may 
follow  perhaps  their  solution  of  it  as  far  as  this.  In  the 
beginning  of  the  eighth  century  S.  Gregory  II  had  denounced 
Leo,  the  Byzantine  Emperor,  as  an  Iconoclast,  and  had 
invited  Liutprand  the  Lombard  to  seize  Leo's  city  of  Ravenna. 
Liutprand  was  successful,  and  the  Imperial  governor  fled  to 
the  lagoons,  for  he  held  them  part  of  the  Eastern  Empire.  He 
appealed  to  Doge  Orso,  an  Heraclean  and  therefore  of  the 
first  of  the  two  parties  I  have  described  in  Venice,  to  recover 
Ravenna.  This  was  done,  though  Jesolo,  Malamocco,  and 
their  party  attacked  Heraclea  and  murdered  the  Doge  for  it. 
The  Pope  soon  quarrelled  with  his  barbarian  ally,  and  half  a 
century  later  the  Papacy,  as  we  know,  called  in  the  Franks 
against  the  Lombards,  and  crowned  Pepin  King  of  Italy. 
Pepin  came  to  make  good  his  title,  defeated  the  Lombards 
and  besieged  Ravenna  and  Pentapolis,  bestowing  them  on  the 
Pope.  This  act  created  a  vastly  different  political  situation. 
It  was  confirmed  by  the  advent  of  Charlemagne,  who,  fearing 
the  Eastern  policy  of  the  lagoons,  had  the  Venetian  merchants 

1  Notably  by    Mr.    Horatio    Brown   in    his   big    History    and    very 
succinctly  and  well  in  his  little  book  on  the  Venetian  Republic  (Dent, 
n.d.).    To  all  his  work  .1  am  much  indebted, 
c 


18  VENICE  AND   VENETIA 

expelled  from  Ravenna.  This  act  stultified  the  democratic 
party  in  Venice  and  caused  a  Byzantine  reaction.  Whatever 
else  Venice  was,  she  was  now  against  Charlemagne,  who  was, 
however,  naturally  favoured  as  the  Pope's  ally  by  the  Patriarch 
of  Grado.  At  this  moment  the  new  see  of  Castello — it  was 
Olivolo  then — awaited  its  Bishop.  The  Doge  named  a  Greek, 
but  the  Patriarch  refused  him.  The  Doge  called  for  ships, 
and  they  came,  and,  led  by  his  son  Maurizio,  they  took  Grado 
and  flung  the  Patriarch  from  the  loftiest  of  his  towers.  This, 
however,  like  most  violence,  was  useless.  The  dead  Patriarch 
was  succeeded  by  his  nephew  Fortunatus,  a  very  strong  and 
remarkable  man.  He  plotted  to  murder  the  Doge,  but  he  was 
discovered,  and  he  fled  to  the  court  of  Charlemagne.  His 
friends,  however,  after  a  time  succeeded  in  electing  one  of 
their  own  family,  Obelerio,  as  Doge,  and  Fortunatus  returned. 
A  sort  of  civil  war  followed.  Malamocco  attacked  Heraclea 
and  subdued  it,  and  succeeded  in  securing  the  government  to 
itself.  The  Doge  even  invited  Charlemagne,  and  it  seemed  as 
though  nothing  could  prevent  Venice  from  falling  to  the 
Western  Empire .  Nevertheless  it  was  not  so ;  the  Byzantine 
party  revived,  appealed  to  the  Emperor  Nicephorus,  and 
again  Fortunatus  fled.  This  was  in  the  opening  of  the  ninth 
century. 

Fortunatus  went  to  Pepin,  King  of  Italy,  as  he  had  gone  to 
his  father  Charlemagne.  Pepin  determined  to  reduce  the 
lagoons.  He  assembled  a  fleet  at  Ravenna,  sailed  up  the 
coast,  took  Brondolo,  Chioggia,  and  Pelestrina,  and,  working 
along  the  lidiy  made  for  Malamocco  the  capital.  In  this  crisis 
the  Doge  and  the  Venetians  took  a  bold  and  splendid  step ; 
they  forsook  Malamocco,  which  lay  exposed  to  the  sea,  and  set 
up  their  new  capital  on  a  group  of  islands  everywhere  guarded 
by  the  lagoon,  then  called  Rialto  and  later  Venice.  Pepin 
attempted  to  follow  them,  but  his  ships  ran  aground,  his 
sailors  were  lost  in  the  vague  and  shallow  waters  with  their 
confused  tideways  and  winding  channels.  Legend  reports 
that  at  the  suggestion  of  an  old  woman  at  Malamocco  he  built 
a  bridge  of  wood,  from  which  his  frightened  horses  leapt  into 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  19 

the  sea  with  their  riders  and  all  his  staff  in  a  defeat  much  like 
Pharaoh's.  This  much  we  know :  he  confessed  himself  beaten 
and  abandoned  the  attack.  The  Venetians  remained  under 
the  influence— the  precarious  influence — of  the  Eastern 
Empire,  and  in  that  short  campaign,  as  it  were  in  a  second 
flight,  was  founded  that  city  which  was  to  grow  into  so  mighty 
and  so  splendid  a  dominion,  beside  which  Heraclea,  Tesolo, 
and  Malamocco  were  but  villages  in  a  waste  of  water. 

The  greatness  of  Venice,  like  the  greatness  of  England,  was 
encouraged  largely  by  the  oligarchic  form  of  her  govern 
ment,  a  government  which  like  our  own  later  came  little  by 
little  into  the  hands  of  an  oligarchy  of  nobles  which  saved 
her  equally  from  the  unstable  and  fragile  yoke  of  tyrants  and 
from  the  distraction  and  anarchy  of  a  democracy.  She  pro- 
duced no  parvenu  Medici  to  break  her  spirit  as  Florence  did, 
nor  did  she  deliver  herself  like  Siena  into  the  hands  of  the 
people.  These  States  soon  fell,  Venice  was  to  remain  almost 
to  our  own  time.  Yet  she  like  they  built  up  her  own  fate  out 
of  the  circumstances  and  the  environment  in  which  she  found 
herself.  She  was  determined  always  in  one  thing :  that  she 
would  not  be  ruled  by  a  lord,  no  hereditary  ruler  should  claim 
her.  But  this  determination,  too,  was  forced  upon  her ;  for  had 
the  Dogeship  become  hereditary — and  in  the  years  which 
followed  the  establishment  of  Rialto  as  the  site  of  the  city  it 
was  the  question  to  be  decided — it  would  not  have  been  long 
before  she  would  have  fallen  into  the  power  of  the  Frankish 
kingdom  or  into  the  hands'  ot  the  Eastern  Empire.  She 
refused  to  permit  the  Dogeship  to  become  hereditary,  yet  she 
did  not  deliver  herself  to  a  democracy.  The  reason  she  did 
not  was  the  sea.  The  command  of  the  sea,  and  she  claimed 
nothing  less,  has  never  been  attempted  by  a  democracy,  it 
demands  an  eifort  too  persistent,  too  far-sighted  and  too  self- 
denying.  The  command  of  the  sea  soon  became  a  necessity 
for  Venice,  and  this  necessity  largely  decided  the  ultimate 
form  of  her  government.  Like  England  later  she  became  an 
aristocratic  oligarchy  represented  by  a  constitutional  sovereign, 
in  Venice  elective,  in  England  hereditary. 


20  VENICE   AND   VENETIA 

Yet  all  this  was  not  achieved  without  a  long  struggle. 
Indeed,  it  was  not  till  two  Doges  had  been  banished  and 
one  murdered  that  in  1023  it  was  finally  obvious  that  an 
hereditary  Dogeship  was  impossible  in  Venice.  The  attempt 
had  been  continued  by  various  families — the  Particiachi,  the 
Candiani,  and  the  Orseoli — during  more  than  two  hundred 
years  counting  only  from  the  establishment  of  Venice  at 
Rialto,  an  act  which  was  finally  confirmed  in  828,  when  the 
body  of  S.  Mark  was  brought  to  Venice  from  Alexandria  by 
two  adventurers,1  and  the  lagoons,  which  had  had  so  many 
patrons — Our  Lord,  the  Blessed  Virgin,  S.  Giustina,  and  S. 
Theodore — were  at  last  placed  under  the  benediction  of  the 
Lion  and  the  Book. 

By  1023,  then,  it  was  evident  that  the  Dogeship  could  not 
be  established  as  an  hereditary  office.  In  that  year  a  law  was 
made  appointing  two  councillors  to  assist  the  Doge — who, 
moreover,  was  compelled  by  the  same  law  to  consult  with  the 
more  prominent  citizens ;  the  aristocracy  had  appeared. 

The  aristocracy,  if  so  we  may  call  the  "  more  prominent " 
citizens  at  this  time,  was  very  like  that  of  the  mainland  cities. 
It  was  unruly  and  eager  for  private  war.  The  Caloprini  and 
Morosini,  for  instance,  had  practised  a  long  vendetta,  and  had 
Venice  been  less  than  impregnable  their  appeal  and  use  of 
foreign  aid  would  have  ruined  the  State  to  which  they  owed 
allegiance.  They  were  crushed,  however,  by  a  stronger  than 
they,  the  Doge  Pietro  Orseolo  II  (983-1008),  who  founded 
the  maritime  supremacy  of  the  city.  We  shall  consider  him 
as  a  statesman  later  j  his  insistence,  however,  on  order  within 
Venice  itself,  his  curbing  of  the  great  families,  did  much  to 
consolidate  an  aristocracy  which,  when  his  own  family  was 
for  ever  debarred  from  office,  was  ready  in  1032  to  take  more 
than  a  hand  in  the  government. 

The  two  councillors  who  were  appointed  in  that  year  to 

assist  the  Doge  found   they  had   two   things  to  accomplish 

before  they  or  their  city  were  secure — they  had  to  make  the 

Doge  a  figurehead,  and  to  take  all  political  power  out  of  the 

1  See  infra,  pp.  45-47. 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  21 

hands  of  the  people.  These  ends  might  be  accomplished,  not 
easily,  but  at  one  blow  nevertheless — by  depriving  the  people 
of  their  right  to  elect  the  Doge;  for  if  the  Doge  could 
claim  no  popular  mandate,  as  it  were,  he  was  but  a  tool  in 
their  hands. 

The  people  had  been  wont  to  elect  the  Doge  in  S.  Pietro  di 
Castello,  the  cathedral  of  Venice,  the  Bishop  and  clergy 
assisting,  with  prayers  and  some  ceremony,  the  Doge  being 
borne  back  on  a  barge  of  state  to  S.  Mark's,  which  he  entered 
barefoot  in  token  of  humility.  From  the  high  altar  he  took 
his  staff  of  office  and  proceeded  to  the  Ducal  Palace  amid  the 
acclamations  of  all  Venice.  There  he  took  the  oath  of 
allegiance  and  set  about  ordering  the  place,  spoiled  by  the 
mob,  to  be  refurnished. 

Such  seems  to  have  been  the  right  and  custom  of  the 
people  till  1 1 92.  Venice  was  by  then  enriched  beyond  all 
expectation  by  the  business  of  the  Crusades ;  as  we  shall  see 
later,  her  power  was  already  securely  laid  upon  the  sea.  A 
very  considerable,  even  an  enormous  wealth  had  come  into 
the  houses  of  those  "prominent  citizens,"  just  as  an  enormous 
wealth  came  into  the  hands  of  our  parvenu  aristocracy  when 
Henry  VIII  destroyed  the  monasteries.  The  results  were  the 
same  in  England  and  in  Venice.  In  England  the  parvenu 
nobility  presently  made  the  Civil  War,  curtailed  the  power  of 
the  Crown,  turned  it,  as  DTsraeli  said,  into  a  Venetian  Doge- 
ship,  and  till  1832  ruled  us  for  our  enormous  good.  In 
Venice  a  national  disaster,  the  miserable  campaign  of  1171 
which  Doge  Vitale  Michiel  II  had  undertaken  to  avenge  the 
treachery  of  the  Emperor  Manuel,  who  had  seized  all  the 
Venetians  in  Constantinople,  was  used  by  the  wealthy  aris- 
tocracy to  begin  the  revolution  they  desired  and  to  the  great 
good  of  Venice. 

The  disaster  had  been  the  affair  of  the  people,  who  com- 
pelled the  Doge  to  action,  in  spite  of  the  advice  of  his  two 
councillors.  The  Doge  was  murdered.  But  what  the  aris- 
tocracy achieved  in  11 71  was  an  instalment  only  of  their 
purpose.     The   city  was   already  divided,  as   it  still   is,  into 


22  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

sestieri.x  It  was  determined  that  each  of  these  divisions  of 
the  city  should  elect  two  representatives,  these  forming,  as  it 
were,  a  Greater  Council,  whose  business  was  threefold :  (i)  To 
elect  the  Doge,  (2)  to  appoint  all  officers  of  the  State,  (3)  to 
choose  the  members  of  the  general  assembly.  The  general 
assembly  was  formed  by  the  selection  of  forty  members  by 
each  councillor,  that  is  to  say,  eighty  from  each  sestiere,  and 
consisted  thus  of  480  members,  who  served  for  a  year.  When 
they  retired,  their  business  was  to  choose  the  two  represen- 
tatives from  each  sestiere  for  the  Greater  Council,  who  in  their 
turn  again  selected  the  new  480  members  of  the  general 
assembly.  Thus  we  see  the  people  successfully  deprived  of  a 
voice  in  the  election  of  the  Doge  and  in  the  management  and 
direction  of  the  State.  At  the  same  time  the  Greater  Council, 
as  it  may  even  now  be  called,  appointed  six  officers  instead  of 
two  to  advise  the  Doge.  Thus  the  Doge  became  a  mere 
figurehead,  and  all  this  was  achieved  by  the  power  of  words 
over  the  people  and  the  influence  of  pageantry,  just  as  a 
similar  change  was  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries 
brought  about  in  England,  and  is  being  brought  about 
to-day.  The  Doge  was,  in  fact,  chosen  by  the  Greater 
Council,  "if  the  people  pleased,"  and  in  a  great  pageant  was 
carried  round  the  Piazza  di  S.  Marco  to  receive  their  acclama- 
tion. All  this  before  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century ;  before 
the  end  of  the  thirteenth  the  oligarchy  was  to  be  perfectly 
established. 

The  advance  towards  this  end  began  in  the  first  years  of 
that  century,  when  the  oligarchy,  at  the  election  of  each  new 
Doge,  still  further  encroached  upon  the  prerogatives  of  that 
office,  and  this  not  by  statute,  but  by  means  of  the  oath — the 
coronation  oath,  as  it  were — whose  terms  were  changed 
according  to  circumstances  at  each  election.  Any  tendency 
towards  the  liberty  of  the  Dogeship  was  thus  continually 
checked.     This  subtle  weapon  was  known  as  the  promissione 

1  The  sestieri&re  (1)  Castello,  (2)  S.  Marco,  (3)  Cannaregio,  (4)  Dorso- 
duro,  (5)  S.  Polo,  (6)  Santa  Croce.     See  also  infra,  pp.  94-95. 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  23 

ducale.  By  this  means  already,  in  1229,  it  was  established 
that  the  Doge  should  pay  taxes,  should  have  no  part  in  the 
election  to  ecclesiastical  preferment,  and  above  all  should  not 
hold  communication  with  foreign  powers.  By  1249  he  is 
forced  to  undertake  to  solicit  office  for  no  one;  by  1275  he 
is  forbidden  to  raise  loans,  to  allow  any  of  his  family  to  marry 
a  foreigner,  to  buy  lands  without  the  Ducato,  or  to  accept  fiefs 
either  on  his  own  behalf  or  on  that  of  his  family  anywhere. 
His  family,  too,  may  hold  no  office  save  that  of  ambassador  or 
naval  captain ;  even  his  wife  is  not  permitted  to  make  presents. 
The  Doge  had  become  a  mere  figurehead,  and  it  now  only 
remained  to  turn  the  oligarchy  into  a  close  caste  to  establish 
it  firmly  and  perhaps  for  ever.  This  was  actually  achieved  in 
1297,  and  by  this  means.  Till  that  time,  theoretically  at 
least,  any  man  who  could  claim  to  be  a  prominent  citizen 
was  eligible  for  the  Greater  Council,  as  I  have  ventured 
already  to  call  it.  In  1297  two  things  were  established, 
namely:  (1)  That  all  those  who  had  sat  in  the  Council 
during  the  last  five  years  should  always  be  eligible  to  it; 
(2)  that  no  one  whose  ancestors  had  not  sat  in  the  Council 
between  1172  and  1297  should  be  eligible.  This  immediately 
established  a  governing  class,  or,  as  we  might  say,  a  peerage, 
outside  which  no  one  had  a  voice  in  the  government  of  the 
State.  A  further  step  was  taken  in  13 19,  when  the  State 
opened  the  Libro  d'  Oro,  a  full  register  of  this  aristocracy. 
All  that  was  now  needed  was  the  order  and  arrangement  of 
the  oligarchy  for  its  function  of  government.  This  occupied 
the  first  thirty-five  years  of  the  fourteenth  century.  The 
Greater  Council  soon  grew  to  be  too  numerous  for  business, 
and  therefore  an  inner  council  or  senate,  the  Predagi,  of 
sixty  members  originally,  was  elected  by  the  Greater  Council, 
to  whom  eventually  were  added  another  sixty  called  the 
Zonata.  This  Senate  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  members 
managed  foreign  affairs,  finance,  customs,  and  naval  defence. 
The  six  councillors  of  the  Doge,  now  called  the  Lesser 
Council,  were  not  disturbed,  but  a  Council  of  Forty  was 
established  as   the  judicial  authority  of  the  State.     In  all 


24  VENICE   AND   VENETIA 

these  councils  the  Doge  represented  the  Republic,  but  he 
controlled  none  of  them. 

All  this  was,  as  may  be  imagined,  not  established  without  a 
considerable  struggle.  The  discontent  of  the  people  at  their 
deprivation  came  to  a  head  when  the  war  of  Ferrara  proved 
that  the  new  government  was  not  efficient.  The  war  had 
come  suddenly,  in  1308,  and  it  soon  became  clear  that  neither 
the  Greater  Council,  which  was  too  numerous,  nor  the  Senate, 
which  was  not  sure  of  its  power,  could  deal  with  it.  Popular 
anger  was  rising.  Action  was  necessary  if  the  oligarchy  was 
not  to  be  strangled  at  its  birth.  It  is  in  this  crisis  we  see 
emerge  another  permanent  feature  of  the  government  of 
Venice,  the  Collegw,  or  council  of  sages,  originally  seven  in 
number,  the  Cabinet,  as  we  might  say,  elected  by  the  Greater 
Council.  This  Collegio  consisted  really  of  the  Secretaries  of 
State  for  War,  for  the  Navy,  and  for  Finance.  The  final 
development  of  the  government  of  Venice  declared  itself  in  a 
somewhat  similar  way ;  it  too  was  the  result  of  a  crisis,  and 
just  as  we  see  the  Collegio,  or  Cabinet,  emerge  to  meet  a 
foreign,  so  we  see  the  Council  of  Ten  created  to  meet  an 
internal  foe. 

Both  before  and  after  the  crisis  of  1308  the  discontent  of 
the  people  smouldered.  It  nearly  came  to  a  head  in  1300, 
but  it  was  not  till  ten  years  later  that  it  finally  declared  itself, 
headed  by  certain  nobles.  It  was,  in  fact,  an  attempt  at 
revolution.  It  failed,  but  to  meet  it  the  Greater  Council 
formed  a  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  as  it  were,  which 
became  a  permanent  part  of  the  constitution  as  the  Council 
of  Ten. 

Thus  in  1335  we  have  practically  complete  the  constitution 
of  Venice  which  was  to  rule  that  great  State  so  successfully 
and  for  so  many  centuries.  There  has  been  nothing  like  it  in 
Italy,  or  even  in  Europe,  unless  we  may  compare  it  with  that 
of  England  between  1668  and  1832.  It  is  in  this  connexion 
interesting  to  note  that  neither  England  nor  Venice  made  a 
part  of  the  refounded  Empire ;  that  both  were  in  some  sort  a 
new  creation  quite  outside  it ;  that  both,  too,  were  but  for- 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  25 

tresses  in  the  sea  dependent  upon  the  command  of  the 
sea  and  upon  their  oversea  commerce;  that  both  were  the 
creators  of  a  vast  colonial  Empire.  Venice  for  long,  how- 
ever, stood  alone.  In  the  midst  of  the  despotic  or  democratic 
governments  of  Italy  she  stood  like  a  vast  rock  against  which 
many  were  broken  in  pieces. 

Why  was  this?  We  have  described  the  establishment  of 
that  strong  government  which  was  for  long  the  envy  of  the 
world,  but  this  alone  does  not  account  for  the  greatness  and 
wealth  of  Venice.  Its  very  existence  is,  in  fact,  dependent 
upon  one  fundamental  thing — an  impregnable  State.  No 
amount  of  good  government  nor  any  quantity  of  excellent 
intentions  could  have  saved  Venice  alive,  any  more  than  they 
will  save  England,  for  a  single  hour.  On  this  alone  depended 
the  establishment  and  safety  of  the  Republic — the  command 
of  the  sea.  How  did  she  obtain  and  keep  it  ?  In  answering 
that  question  we  turn  from  domestic  to  foreign  affairs. 

It  has  already  been  said  that  Venice  looked  eastward,  and 
not  south;  this  was  forced  upon  her  by  her  geographical 
position,  and  established  as  she  was  in  the  sea,  a  mere  fortress 
at  the  head  of  the  Adriatic,  her  first  necessity  was  bare 
security — the  command,  then,  of  the  Adriatic;  her  second 
was  commerce,  therefore  an  open  road  to  Syria  and  the 
Levant.  She  won  these  in  three  main  efforts  and  by  various 
means. 

Her  maritime  consciousness  was  early  thrust  upon  her  when 
she  provided  transport  for  the  Imperial  armies  of  the  East,  as 
we  have  already  noted.  The  only  attack  that  had  ever  been 
made  upon  her  with  any  hope  of  success  was  that  of  Pepin — 
and  it  came  from  the  sea.  It  made  Rialto  the  centre  of 
Venetian  life ;  and  when  Venice  was  there  established,  she  at 
once  built  a  fleet  of  war  consisting  of  some  sixty  ships.  Even 
so  she  was  not  quite  secure.  Her  fleet  was  tied  to  home  waters. 
This  was  brought  home  to  her  in  836,  when,  her  fleet  absent 
on  that  disastrous  expedition  to  Taranto,  the  Dalmatian  pirates 
of  the  coast  opposite  the  lagoons  fell  upon  the  city.     It  was 


26  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

obvious  at  once  that,  though  she  might  fortify  the  lidi,  she 
could  never  really  be  secure,  could  never  allow  her  fleet  out 
of  home  waters  till  this  pirate  power  was  destroyed.  It  was 
the  first  necessity ;  yet  she  was  not  able  to  achieve  it  till  the 
year  997.  Meantime,  she  had  become  the  mart  of  Italy ;  her 
transports,  laden  with  the  merchandise  of  the  East,  peopled 
the  sea.  It  became  every  year  more  necessary  to  secure  the 
absolute  safety  of  this  commerce,  of  which  the  pirates  too 
often  made  a  prey.  There  was  this,  too,  that  the  people  of 
the  Dalmatian  coast,  in  trade  relations  with  the  Republic,  were 
also  and  too  often  at  the  mercy  of  these  robbers.  It  became  a 
vital  commercial  necessity  to  exterminate  them. 

It  was  Doge  Pietro  Orseolo  II  who  embarked  upon  this, 
the  first  great  expedition  the  Republic  undertook,  in  the  year 
997 ;  the  fleet  sailed  on  Ascension  Day.  He  was  completely 
successful.  He  met  the  pirates  and  defeated  them.  The 
people  of  the  Dalmatian  towns  welcomed  him  ;  only  Curzola 
and  Lagosta  held  out.  Curzola  was  easily  broken,  Lagosta  it 
was  necessary  formally  to  attack  ;  it  fell.  To  the  title  of  Doge 
of  Venice  was  added  that  of  Duke  of  Dalmatia.  This  expedi- 
tion gave  Venice  the  Adriatic  ;  from  the  hour  in  which  it  was 
successful  s"he  was  secure.  The  Dalmatian  cities  became  less 
valuable  allies ;  she  exercised  a  sort  of  protection  over  them, 
and  their  numerous  and  splendid  ports  were  thrown  open  to 
her  ships. 

The  dominion  of  Venice,  the  command  of  the  Adriatic,  thus 
obtained,  was  marked  and  symbolized  every  year  thereafter  till 
the  fall  of  the  Republic  before  the  apparition  of  Napoleon  in 
£796,  in  a  ceremony  at  once  dramatic  and  touching,  as  though 
at  once  to  remind  her  people  of  their  great  birthright  and  to 
convince  them  of  some  sacred  responsibility  of  which  they 
were  the  heirs.  Would  that  we  had  some  such  ceremony  in 
England  to-day  !  It  took  place  on  Ascension  Day,  because  on 
that  day  the  fleet  had  sailed,  and  it  was  called  the  Sposalizio 
del  Mare,  the  Marriage  of  the  Sea ;  and  we  shall  describe  it 
when  we  come  to  deal  with  the  spot  where  it  took  place.1 
1  See  infra,  p.  180  et  seq. 


YENETIA  AND  VENICE  27 

The  Dalmatian  expedition  is  of  very  great  importance  in  the 
history  of  Venice ;  it  gave  the  city  confidence  in  herself,  and  is, 
in  fact,  the  beginning  of  her  exterior  history.  She  had,  as  we 
have  seen,  always  been  in  touch  with  the  Eastern  Empire,  and 
had  often,  as  we  have  seen  too,  rendered  her  considerable 
services.  This  policy  she  continued;  but  she  was  now  in  a 
position  to  reap  the  full  benefit  of  such  reward  as  Constanti- 
nople had  to  offer.  For  help  rendered  against  the  Normans 
Venice  obtained  from  the  Emperor  Alexis  in  1085  a  "free 
access"  for  her  citizens  to  all  harbours  of  the  Empire;  and 
her  citizens  were  not  only  to  be  free  from  all  customs, 
but  they  were  to  be  allowed  to  acquire  land,  to  build 
factories,  and  to  establish  depots  in  Constantinople  itself. 
In  fact,  a  Venetian  quarter  rose  in  the  capital  of  the  East 
which  was  to  be  the  cause  of  her  most  wonderful  achieve- 
ment. 

That  expedition  against  King  Robert  on  behalf  of  Byzantium 
brings  us  to  within  ten  years  of  the  Crusades,  and  with  the 
Crusades  we  come  to  so  sudden  and  extraordinary  an  expan- 
sion of  Venice  in  power  and  wealth  that  we  find  her  at  their 
close  probably  the  most  formidable  power  in  Europe.  The 
reasons  for  this  are  chiefly  geographical.  Venice  alone  of  all 
the  city  States  looked  to  the  East,  and  was  by  far  the  most 
convenient  port  of  departure  thereto  for  any  army  coming  from 
the  north  and  west  of  Europe.  It  is  not  surprising,  then,  that 
in  the  Crusades  she  suddenly  became  the  gate  of  Europe. 
Her  only  rivals,  Genoa  and  perhaps  Pisa,  lay  far  to  the  south ; 
moreover,  neither  passively  nor  actively  were  they  so  strong  as 
she,  nor  could  either  of  them  be  said  to  command  their  sea  as 
Venice  held  the  Adriatic.  So  she  became  the  power  which 
transported  those  vast  multitudes  to  the  East.  Yet,  if  she  did 
little  or  nothing  to  win  the  Holy  Sepulchre  for  the  Western 
Empire,  her  fleets  kept  the  seas ;  and  when  Baldwin,  King  of 
Jerusalem,  asked  for  aid  in  subduing  the  ports  of  Palestine  she 
sent  a  hundred  ships,  and  Sidon  fell  in  1102  ;  she  sent  seventy- 
two  ships,  and  Tyre  fell  in  11 23.  In  both  of  these  cities 
she  obtained   quarters,  she   built  churches,  she   established 


28  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

markets,  where  she  used  her  own  weights  and  measures.  It 
was  an  Empire  she  was  building  in  the  East  while  the  chivalry 
of  Europe  sought  for  a  Tomb. 

All  this,  which  meant  vast  increase  of  wealth  and  power, 
could  not  be  achieved  without  exciting  jealousies.  Venice 
suddenly  found  herself  under  the  displeasure  of  the  Emperor 
of  Constantinople,  who  looked  with  hostility  on  the  Latin 
kingdom  of  Jerusalem,  and  especially  at  the  part  Venice,  a 
feudatory,  as  he  thought,  of  the  Eastern  Empire,  had  played 
therein.  The  policy  of  Venice  was  beginning  to  run  counter 
to  that  of  Byzantium.  This  was  presently  made  clearer  still. 
In  1 148  Venice,  at  the  request  of  the  Emperor,  had  made  war 
on  the  Normans  in  the  Ionian  Islands.  She  defeated  them ; 
but  the  treaty  she  made  was  selfish  and  merely  secured 
her  possessions  in  the  Adriatic  from  attack.  The  Emperor 
determined  to  punish  her. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Venice  had  already  secured  a 
quarter  in  Constantinople  with  certain  trading  rights.  These 
she  had  exercised  to  the  full,  and  the  Venetian  quarter  is  said 
to  have  held  as  many  as  200,000  inhabitants.  In  11 71  all 
the  Venetians  were  arrested  by  order  of  the  Emperor  and 
their  goods  seized.  This  sudden  and  unexpected  blow  found 
Venice  unprepared.  She  sent  a  great  expedition  against  the 
Emperor,  but  it  was  shattered  and  discomfited.  This  failure 
offered  the  oligarchy  the  opportunity  it  had  awaited  to  estab- 
lish itself  in  Venice.  That  revolution  was  successful.  Venice 
was  not  again  to  be  taken  unawares. 

The  disaster,  grievous  as  it  was,  bitter  though  it  was,  left 
Venice  still  by  far  the  greatest  sea  power  in  the  world.  This 
appeared  when  it  was  seen  that  if  the  great  Crusade  preached 
by  Innocent  III  were  ever  to  reach  the  Sepulchre,  Venice 
must  transport  it  thither.  She  agreed  to  do  so  on  her  own 
terms.  She  would  transport  9,000  knights  and  20,000  foot, 
4,500  horses,  and  find  provision  for  twelve  months,  besides 
herself  sending  fifty  galleys  ;  this  for  85,000  silver  marks  and 
a  half  of  all  that  was  taken.  That  bargain  was  confirmed  in 
S.  Mark's,  but  though  Venice  was  ready  to  carry  out  her  part 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  29 

of  it  the  Crusaders,  it  soon  appeared,  were  not.  Venice,  taking 
thought,  turned  all  to  her  own  benefit.  The  old  and  glorious 
Doge  Enrico  Dandolo  ascended  the  pulpit  of  S.  Mark's  and 
spoke  to  the  assembled  multitude.  He  offered  to  lead  the 
Crusade  if  on  its  part,  seeing  that  the  money  was  not  forth- 
coming, it  would  attack  Zara  and  Dalmatia,  now  in  the  hands 
of  the  Hungarians,  and  thus  secure  the  inviolability  of  the 
Adriatic.  The  Crusaders  agreed.  They  sailed  in  October, 
led  by  Dandolo— a  splendid,  an  immortal  company — in  the 
tall,  great  ships,  led  by  the  towering  galleys  Aquila,  Pellegrino 
and  Paradiso,  flying  the  banner  of  S.  Mark. 

Zara  was  taken.  Then  a  new  plan  was  opened.  It  is  said 
that  Boniface,  Marquis  of  Monferrat,  was  the  author  of  it. 
However  that  may  be,  it  agreed  with  the  will  of  Venice.  Not 
Jerusalem  but  Constantinople  was  to  be  the  quarry  of  that 
Crusade.  Yet,  though  her  vengeance  was  thus  placed  to  her 
hand,  Venice  was  true  to  herself.  She  demanded  and  obtained 
100,000  marks  for  the  use  of  the  Venetian  fleet  in  that  expedi- 
tion. Then  Dandolo  led  them  on;  he  forced  the  Golden 
Horn  and — how  tell  of  the  fighting  ? — took  the  Imperial  city 
in  1204.  It  was  as  though  the  Rome  that  had  not  heard  of 
Alaric  had  fallen  into  his  hands. 

In  that  tremendous  victory  Venice  found  herself.  To  her 
fell  the  Cyclades  and  the  Sporades  islands  of  the  ^Egean ;  she 
purchased  Crete,  the  mother  of  Greece;  Zara  was  hers  and 
the  coast  of  Dalmatia ;  not  the  Adriatic  only  but  the  Eastern 
Mediterranean  was  in  her  grip ;  she  held  the  gateways  of  the 
Orient.  It  must  have  seemed  to  Venice,  even  to  the  world, 
like  an  apotheosis.  Who  would  dare  to  say  her  nay?  Well, 
Genoa  would. 

The  great  naval  struggle,  the  greatest  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
which  thus  rose  out  of  the  fall  of  Constantinople  must  always 
have  been  inevitable.  It  occupies  some  hundred  and  seventy 
years  of  Venetian  history.  Both  cities  fought  with  great 
tenacity  and  courage,  for  both  felt — as,  indeed,  was  the  case — 
that  their  existence  depended  on  the  result.  They  were  fight- 
ing for  the  command  of  the  Mediterranean  and  the  commerce 


30  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

of  the  world ;  the  result  was  decided  by  the  superior  wealth, 
and  therefore  the  superior  recuperative  power,  of  Venice. 
Moreover,  Venice  was  impregnable  save  from  the  sea ;  Genoa 
was  not.  The  series  of  campaigns  was  opened  by  Genoa  at 
Acre,  in  which  the  Genoese  sacked  the  Venetian  quarter. 
Venice  demanded  satisfaction  and  got  a  refusal.  Therefore 
she  sacked  the  Genoese  quarter  in  the  same  town  and  crushed 
the  Genoese  fleet  in  those  waters.  That  was  the  first  round  of 
the  great  war,  and  it  centred  in  Acre. 

The  second  opened  in  Constantinople,  where  in  1261,  in  the 
absence  of  the  Venetian  fleet,  the  Greek  Empire  was  restored. 
Very  naturally  it  favoured  the  Genoese  merchants  so  that  they 
threatened  to  dominate  the  whole  Levant.  This  was  fatal  to 
Venice.  War  broke  out,  and  Geronimo  Dandolo,  in  1264, 
again  destroyed  the  Genoese  fleet,  this  time  at  Trepani.  A 
sort  of  peace  followed.  But  Venice  was  not  content.  She 
could  only  be  satisfied  with  the  ruin  of  Genoa  as  a  naval 
power.  She  was  willing  to  reach  this  end  by  any  means. 
She  supplied  an  Admiral  Alberto  Morosini  to  the  Pisans  in 
their  great  engagement  with  Genoa  at  Meloria  in  1284 ; x  as  we 
know,  he  was  destroyed.  Indeed,  this  was  Genoa's  great 
moment.  Strong  in  Constantinople,  with  a  new,  victorious 
fleet  at  sea,  she  saw  Venice  regaining  the  trade  of  the  East  by 
treaties  with  the  Infidel  Turk.  She  closed  the  Dardanelles. 
Venice  sent  forth  seventy-three  galleys  to  bring  her  to  reason ; 
Genoa  defeated  them  in  the  Gulf  of  Alexandretta.  Venice 
sent  again  another  fleet  under  Ruggiero  Morosini.  He  forced 
the  Dardanelles,  burned  the  Genoese  quarter  at  Galata,  and 
threatened  the  Emperor.  He  returned  to  Venice  with  a  vast 
booty.  Nevertheless  the  Genoese,  meeting  a  Venetian  fleet  of 
ninety-five  sail  under  Andrea  Dandolo,  broke  it  off  Curzola, 
practising  the  tactics  of  Meloria.  Dandolo  killed  himself.  A 
treaty  of  peace  was  made,  but  it  was  not  unfavourable  to 
Venice.  That  was  in  1299,  and  that  peace  might  have  taught 
the  Genoese  the  truth  j  Venice  was  too  strong  for  them,  her 

1  Cf.  my  "Florence  and  Northern  Tuscany"  (3rd  edition,  Methuen), 
p.  87  et  seq. 


VENETIA   AND  VENICE  31 

wealth  too  great,  she  was  destined  to  win,  she  was  built  to 
endure. 

The  third  campaign  centres  in  the  Black  Sea.  Quarrels 
about  the  trade  with  the  Tartars  opened  it.  Under  the  walls 
of  Pera  Paganino  Doria  broke  the  fleet  of  Niccolb  Pisani,  but 
the  Venetians  sent  reinforcements,  and  Pisani,  in  1353,  broke 
the  Genoese  off  Cagliari  and  destroyed  them.  That  was  all 
but  a  mortal  blow.  Genoa  placed  herself  under  Giovanni 
Visconti  of  Milan.  Petrarch,  at  his  request,  came  to  Venice 
to  arrange  terms,  but  Venice  would  hear  of  none.  The  war 
went  on ;  Genoa  flung  a  fleet  upon  the  seas  under  Paganino, 
who  slipped  by  Pisani  into  the  Adriatic  and  burned  Curzola 
and  Lagosta  and  threatened  Venice  itself.  A  truce  was 
made,  for  Genoa  was  not  ready  for  a  great  advance.  Never- 
theless Doria  caught  Pisani  in  winter  quarters  at  Sapienza  in 
November,  1354,  and  took  his  whole  command.  This  was 
the  worst  blow  Venice  ever  had  till  she  fell  in  1796.  It  found 
her  in  confusion,  for  in  the  next  year  Doge  Marino  Falier  was 
found  guilty  of  the  obscure  conspiracy  which  bears  his  name 
and  was  beheaded  by  the  Council  of  Ten.  But,  as  before, 
Genoa  was  too  exhausted  to  advance;  she  had  neither  the 
money  nor  the  men  to  break  Venice,  who,  as  soon  as  peace 
was  made,  turned  again  to  business  and  recouped  herself. 

The  fourth  and  last  campaign  broke  out  of  necessity  because 
the  three  which  had  preceded  it  had  not  been  decisive.  The 
immediate  quarrel  was  over  the  island  of  Tenedor,  which 
commanded  the  approach  to  the  Dardanelles.  Venice,  by  an 
unscrupulous  threat,  procured  this  from  the  Emperor  Paleo- 
logus.  Genoa  tried  to  frustrate  this  act  of  the  Emperor,  and, 
failing,  made  alliance  with  Hungary  and  the  Paduans.  Out  of 
Venice  sailed  Vettor  Pisani,  with  the  banners  of  S.  Mark,  and 
broke  the  Genoese  off  Cape  Antium.  By  command  of  the 
Senate  he  wintered  at  Pola  in  I  stria,  and  was  surprised  by 
Luciano  Doria  of  Genoa,  who  destroyed  his  fleet.  Pisani 
was  imprisoned. 

Then  Pietro  Doria  of  Genoa  and  Carrara  of  Padua  closed 
on  Venice.     Carrara  held  the  mainland  and  Doria  blockaded 


32  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

the  city  from  the  sea,  basing  himself  on  Chioggia,  which  he 
took  in  August,  1379.  He  should  have  struck  at  Venice 
herself.     He  preferred  to  starve  her  out. 

Then  Venice  rose;  she  would  not  be  beaten.  She  led 
Vettor  Pisani  out  of  prison  and  gave  him  her  last  ships.  He 
set  forth  by  the  sea-way  out  of  Porto  di  Lido  for  Chioggia. 
He  found  Doria  in  winter  quarters  in  the  lagoon.  He  seized 
and  held  the  gate  Porto  di  Chioggia.  The  blockader  was 
blockaded.  In  vain  he  tried  to  dig  himself  out  through  the 
sand  banks;  Pisani  scattered  him,  willing  for  him  to  starve. 
With  untiring  watchfulness  he  waited  with  half-mutinous  crews 
till,  on  January  1,  1380,  Carlo  Zeno,  the  adventurous  captain, 
reinforced  him.  Then  he  took  the  offensive,  forced  the  Genoese 
off  the  banks  back  into  Chioggia,  and  received  in  June  the 
surrender  of  the  Genoese  fleet. 

It  was  the  last  throw  of  Genoa.  She  was  broken  for  ever ; 
Venice  became  sole  mistress  of  the  Mediterranean. 

We  have  seen  Venice  establish  herself  as  a  great  State ;  we 
have  watched  the  development  of  her  government  into  its  final 
form ;  we  have  seen  her  reach  out  and  grasp  first  the  Adriatic, 
then  the  Midland  sea ;  we  have  followed  her  step  by  step  in 
the  foundation  of  her  dominion  in  the  East.  This  develop- 
ment was  natural  and  necessary.  Her  first  necessity  was  the 
command  of  the  Adriatic,  her  second  the  security  of  her  trade 
routes,  while  a  dominion  in  the  East  was  not  only  the  easiest 
but  the  most  valuable  way  in  which  to  found  her  com- 
merce and  her  rule.  It  is  only  after  the  opening  of  the 
Genoese  wars  that  we  see  her  attempt  to  acquire  possessions 
on  what  she  called  terra  firma — on  the  mainland  of  Italy,  that 
is.  In  the  end  she  was  able  to  refound  the  ancient  province 
of  Venetia  and  more,  but  she  only  began  to  set  about  this  after 
years  of  effort  in  the  East  and  upon  the  sea.     Why  ? 

The  reason  is  perhaps  obvious.  She  was  compelled  to  a 
dominion  on  the  sea  before  anything  else,  because  it  was  only 
as  mistress  of  the  Adriatic  that  she  could  maintain  herself  at 
all.  This  she  secured  by  her  wealth,  and  her  wealth  she  found 
first  in  the  East,  where  she  early  for  this  reason  began  to  found 


VENETIA  AND   VENICE  33 

a  dominion.  It  was  only  when  Genoa  threatened  her  and  from 
the  sea  that  she  began  to  think  of  the  mainland.  She  turned 
to  the  mainland  then  for  this  reason.  The  greatest  danger 
Venice  ran  from  an  enemy  like  Genoa,  who  could  both  hold 
and  attack  her  from  the  sea,  was  the  danger  of  starvation. 
With  the  parti  blockaded  and  an  unfriendly  terra  firma^  she 
was  at  the  mercy  of  hunger.  In  the  lagoons  one  could  not 
grow  corn,  and  we  find  that  the  first  acquisitions  Venice  made 
on  terra  firma  were  great  corn-growing  districts — Treviso,  for 
instance,  and  Bassano.  With  the  latter  she  obtained  the 
command  of  a  pass  into  the  Germanies.  This  also  she 
needed,  for  the  West  was  more  and  more  coming  to  be  neces- 
sary to  her,  as  the  East  had  always  been ;  for  if  she  bought  in 
the  East,  she  sold  in  the  West,  and  was  the  natural  means  of 
communication  between  them. 

About  the  time  of  the  Genoese  wars — and  in  all  this,  too, 
she  is  like  England — she  had  suffered  much  from  hostile 
tariffs.  The  wars  of  Ferrara  in  1240  and  1308  were  waged 
on  this  account,  so  was  the  war  with  the  Scaligers  of  1329. 
That  war  with  the  lords  of  Western  Venetia,  whose  capital  was 
Verona,  and  whose  dominion  stretched  at  that  time  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Po  to  the  Alps,  and  from  Verona  to  the  sea, 
gave  Venice  possession  of  Treviso  and  Bassano,  and  re- 
established her  trading  rights  in  Vicenza  and  Verona. 
Before  that  war  the  position  of  Venice  was,  as  far  as  food- 
stuffs and  the  trade  routes  Westward  went,  that  of  a  dependent 
upon  the  Scaligers.  A  maritime  enemy  in  conjunction  with 
the  Scaligers  had  a  good  chance  of  bringing  Venice,  rich  as 
she  was,  to  her  knees.  It  was  when  this  contingency  actually 
came  to  pass,  when  Mastino  della  Scala  tried  to  ally  himself 
with  Genoa,  that  Venice,  seeing  her  danger,  was  compelled  to 
make  war  on  the  mainland.  This  she  did  in  1339.  Like 
England,  she  had  no  army  fit  for  a  continental  war;  like 
England,  she  was  divided  about  the  wisdom  of  this  policy ; 
but,  like  England,  she  was  determined  to  have  her  way. 
Her  commerce  was  threatened,  she  herself  was  in  pro- 
found   danger;    she    forged    an   army,   and    made    up    her 

D 


34  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

mind    to   fight.     She   was    right,    and    she   was    completely 
successful. 

The  situation  thus  created  was  wholly  new  to  her.    Till  now 
she  had  been  an  impregnable  fortress  holding  the  sea,  which 
was  her  frontier.     In  1339  she  became  a  continental  power, 
with  a  land  frontier  as  easily  attacked  as  any  other.     This  is 
no  place  to  discover  how  she  achieved   that   revolution  of 
policy;  how  she  raised  an  army  by  universal  service;  how 
she,  the  youngest  military  power  in  Europe,  determined  to 
march  to  Verona  if  necessary,  as  England  might  determine 
to  march  to  Berlin.     For  such  an  inquiry,  useful  as  it  would 
be  to  us  at  this  time,  there  is  no  space  in  such  a  work  as  this. 
It  must  be  enough  for  us  to  know — to  know  and  to  treasure 
the  knowledge — that  she  did  all  this  and  achieved  her  pur- 
pose.    In  that  she  was  not  without  allies  any  more  than  we 
should   be.     The   Scaligers  of  Verona,  with  their  vast   new 
dominion,  had  aroused  the  fear  and  the  jealousy  of  more 
than  one  neighbouring  State.      When  Venice   declared  war 
she   did   not   stand   alone ;  Florence,    Parma,    Mantua,   and 
Milan    were    ready    to    assist    her.      This    array    of   allies 
frightened  Verona.     Mastino  della  Scala  wanted  terms,  and 
he  sent  Marsilio  da  Carrara,   once  lord   but  now  governor 
of  Padua   under   the   Scaligers,    to   Venice   as   ambassador. 
It  was  an  elementary  and  a  fatal   mistake.     Carrara  made 
secret    terms   with   Venice;  he   proposed    to    place   her   in 
possession    of    Padua    on    condition    that    his    House  was 
restored    there.      In   these   circumstances   the   war   opened. 
Scala  was    busy  with    the   Visconti    on    the   west;  in    his 
absence  Pietro  Rossi  of  Parma  fell  upon  Padua,  and  Venice 
took  it,  placing  Carrara,  according  to  the  bargain,  once  more 
in  possession  of  his  lordship.     Peace  was  made  when  Brescia 
fell  in   1339,  and  by  it  Venice,  as  we  have  said,  acquired 
Treviso  and  Bassano,  her  first  possessions  on  the  mainland. 
She  had  disposed  once  and  for  all  of  the  Scaligers,  and  in 
Padua  saw  Carrara  a  sort  of  a  vassal,  as  she  hoped,  ready 
to  do  her  bidding. 

What   she   had    to    fear — not    then   perhaps,   but   in  the 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  35 

future — was  the  growing  power  of  the  Visconti  of  Milan. 
Their  territory  ran  with  that  of  Padua.  Every  attack  they 
made  on  the  Padovani  was  in  a  very  real  sense  an  attack 
upon  Venice.  Nor  could  she  trust  the  Carraresi,  for  to 
them  in  their  desire  for  independence  Venice  seemed  a 
nearer  and  more  dreadful  danger  than  Visconti.  So  they 
came  to  take  sides  against  the  Republic.  Their  real  oppor- 
tunity occurred  in  1354,  when  Genoa  destroyed  the  Venetian 
fleet  at  Sapienza  and  the  treason  of  Marino  Falier  brought 
confusion  upon  the  city.  In  that  disastrous  moment  the 
Hungarians  claimed  the  Dalmatian  cities ;  and  others,  among 
them  the  Patriarch  of  Aquileia,  joined  them.  Carrara 
refused  to  assist,  but  secretly  sent  aid  to  the  Hungarians 
when  they  besieged  Treviso.  That  was  the  beginning  of 
the  end  for  Carrara.  It  is  true  that  the  peace  of  Zara,  which 
Venice  made  to  gain  time,  confirmed  him  in  the  possession 
of  Padua,  but  that  was  no  more  final  than  was  in  the 
case  of  the  Boers  the  Convention  of  London  in  1881. 
Venice  saw  she  must  crush  Carrara  and  possess  herself  of 
Padua  if  she  was  safely  to  fight  Genoa;  in  the  future  an 
enemy  on  her  flank  would  be  fatal.  In  this  she  was  right ; 
the  whole  danger  to  the  city  in  the  great  war  with  Genoa 
came  from  the  co-operation  of  Padua  with  the  Genoese. 
Francesco  Carrara  was  then  lord  of  Padua.  He  had  been 
already  punished  by  Venice,  but  gamely  made  this  last  wild 
attempt  for  liberty  and  independence.  He  it  was  who 
blockaded  Venice  from  the  mainland  while  Pietro  Doria 
struck  at  the  city.  He  it  was  who  fed  the  Genoese  at 
Chioggia  during  that  long  patience.  He  it  was  whom 
Carlo  Zeno  broke  and  thus  ended  the  war. 

He  was  broken,  but  not  done  with.  It  was  Genoa  only 
who  was  finally  disposed  of  in  that  war.  Carrara  remained 
very  powerful  on  the  mainland  waiting  his  opportunity.  It 
never  came.  He  tried  every  way.  He  built  up  slowly  a 
tariff  against  Venice,  and  holding  the  passes,  for  he  bought 
and  possessed  himself  of  them  all,  he  had  good  hope  of  her 
ruin.     He  failed  because,  like  every  continental  power,  he 


36  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

was  ever  in  danger  from  his  neighbours.  He  failed  for  the 
same  reason  that  Napoleon  failed  in  his  attempt  on  England. 
Behind  Napoleon  lay  the  enemy  ;  behind  Carrara  lay  Visconti 
of  Milan.  They  quarrelled  over  Vicenza.  They  had  agreed 
it  was  in  the  dominion  of  Padua,  but  Visconti  seized  it. 
Carrara  turned  for  aid  to  Venice.  He  pointed  out  many 
things  with  much  eloquence.  He  described  himself  as  a 
"buffer"  necessary  to  the  Republic  between  herself  and 
Visconti.  Too  late  he  recognized  how  necessary  Venice 
was  to  his  existence.  Visconti  also  approached  Venice; 
he  was  ready  to  surrender  Treviso  and  Feltre  as  the  price 
of  assistance  against  Carrara.  Venice  accepted  his  offer. 
Nevertheless,  when  she  found  herself  face  to  face  with 
Visconti,  and  understood  the  ambition  of  the  viper  of  Milan, 
she  joined  the  league  Florence  had  established  against  him, 
and  in  1392  restored  the  Carraresi  to  Padua.  These  thing, 
remained  for  exactly  ten  years,  till,  in  1402,  the  House  of 
Visconti  fell  to  pieces.  After  the  death  of  Gian  Galeazzo 
Venice  had  no  more  need  of  the  Carrara,  who,  in  the  con- 
fusion of  the  Visconti  revolution,  claimed  Vicenza.  The 
Duchess  of  Milan,  Visconti's  widow,  appealed  to  Venice,  who, 
as  the  price  of  her  help,  demanded  Bassano,  Vicenza,  and 
Verona.  These  terms  were  accepted.  The  two  Carraresi, 
Jacopo  and  Francesco,  were  taken,  and  in  1405  were 
strangled  in  prison  in  Venice.  Into  their  dominion  Venice 
entered,  and  so  restored  the  ancient  frontiers  of  Venetia  in 
a  State  which  she  ruled  till  her  fall  in  1796. 

The  State  thus  formed,  whose  boundaries  were  the  Alps, 
the  Po,  the  Lago  di  Garda,  the  Mincio,  and  the  sea,  alone  in 
Italy  remained  stable  and  firm  during  some  four  hundred 
years.  Why?  For  more  than  one  reason,  but  first  because 
Venice  held  the  command  of  the  sea,  and  was  almost  till  the 
end  of  that  period  herself  impregnable.  That  she  established 
good  government,  the  best  that  Italy  has  ever  known  since 
the  fall  of  the  Empire,  goes  for  much  ;  that  she  more  than 
any  other  Italian  State  inspired  the  love  of  her  dependent 
cities  so  that  they  were  loyal  to  her  and  ready  to  fight  in 


YENETIA  AND  VENICE  37 

her  behalf,  goes  for  more.  But  the  chief  and  final  cause  of 
the  endurance  of  Venice  and  her  dominion  was  her  impreg- 
nable position  consequent  upon  her  command  of  the  sea. 
This  she  won  in  the  fourteenth  century,  and  by  the  opening 
of  the  fifteenth  she  had  established  herself  as  one  of  the 
greatest  European  States,  not  to  be  moved  or  overthrown 
till,  untrue  to  herself,  inwardly  rotten  and  almost  defenceless, 
the  guns  of  Napoleon  bellowed  across  the  lido,  and  after 
more  than  a  thousand  years  the  Republic  fell,  stricken  from 
the  sea,  never  to  rise  again. 

There  remains  upon  the  vague  lagoons,  like  a  ghost  upon 
those  mysterious  waters,  a  beautiful  dead  city  that  we  still 
call  Venezia. 

The  history  of  Venice  that  we  have  thus  traced,  not  indeed 
in  detail  but  with  a  certain  largeness,  for  the  sake  of  an  idea 
rather  than  for  the  enumeration  of  mere  facts,  divides  itself 
easily  into  two  periods,  which  are  very  closely  marked  by  the 
wars  with  Genoa  and  the  sudden  advance  on  terra  firma,  the 
establishment  of  Venice  as  an  Italian  power,  the  re-creation  of 
Venetia. 

At  no  time  in  her  thousand  years  of  history  did  Venice 
make  a  part  of  the  Western  Empire.  In  this  she  stood  alone 
in  all  Western  Europe,  unless,  indeed,  the  thousand  similitudes 
she  bears  to  England  may  appear  also  in  this,  for  England,  too, 
never  formally  made  a  part  of  the  refounded  Empire  of  the 
West.  Yet  both  Venice  and  England  ever  belonged  to  the 
Western  Church;  they  came  within  its  government,  and 
equally  owed  almost  everything  to  that  universality. 

But  Venice,  as  we  have  seen,  looked  to  the  East.  Her  earliest 
relations  were  with  the  Eastern  Empire,  and  though  this  out- 
look largely  remained  hers  to  the  very  end,  yet  we  find  that 
the  Genoese  war  achieved  after  all  chiefly  this  :  that  it  forced 
her  to  turn  Westward,  to  become  a  continental  power,  and 
thus  brought  her  within  the  influence  of  Western  thought  and 
politics.  It  is,  then,  the  fourteenth  century  which  marks  the 
great  turning-point  of  Venetian  history,  thought,  and  art. 

Before  the  Genoese  wars  she  was  chiefly  a  Byzantine  city 


38  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

at  their  close  in  1339  she  had  become  mainly  European. 
Her  advance  is  to  be  for  the  future  along  the  same  lines 
as  Italy  will  use ;  she  will  be  engaged  in  the  same  methods  of 
thought,  she  will  experience  the  same  moods  and  find  the 
same  means  of  expression.  This  becomes  clear  at  once 
in  the  aspect  of  Venice  herself.  Till  the  beginning  of  the 
fourteenth  century  she  is  Byzantine,  her  buildings  are  rather 
Oriental  than  European,  and  her  greatest  church  is  modelled 
upon  S.  Sophia  in  Constantinople.  By  the  close  of  the 
fourteenth  century  she  is  largely  Gothic,  has  indeed  under- 
stood that  spirit  as  well  as  any  other  Italian  city  whatsoever, 
and  is  ready  to  advance  with  the  rest  of  Italy  into  the  Renais- 
sance, and  to  make  that  return  to  Rome,  without  any  com- 
punction. Yet  a  flavour  of  the  East,  across  the  sea,  always 
remained  with  her  in  a  certain  exuberance  of  fancy  and  orna- 
ment, a  delight  in  bright  colours  and  the  expression  of  rich- 
ness, of  wealth,  which  are  like  a  crimson  pattern  running  at 
hazard  through  the  sombre  and  precious  Roman  stuff  upon 
which,  in  fact,  she  stood.  Even  in  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries  we  may  see  this  in  the  strangely  moving 
colour  of  Palladio's  vast  churches,  in  the  rhetoric  of  the  Salute, 
so  extraordinarily  decorative  too,  in  the  sheer  gesticulation 
against  the  soft  sky  of  the  Gesuiti;  above  all,  in  the  rosy 
towers  full  of  bells  that  everywhere  lean  over  her  in  the  quiet 
Campos  like  silent  Eastern  courts,  in  the  miracle  of  the  S. 
Giorgio,  so  delicately  rosy  and  tipped  with  a  golden  angel. 
Yes,  she  speaks  even  to  the  end  with  a  subtle  voice,  and 
standing  as  she  does,  so  brittle  a  thing,  on  the  brink  of  the 
Adriatic,  spoiled  by  the  modern  world,  and  perhaps,  ghost  as 
she  is,  even  to-morrow  to  pass  away  from  our  world,  she  seems 
to  remind  us  as  a  symbol  may  do — a  symbol  or  a  grave — of 
that  old  dream  we  once  had  in  which  East  and  West  were 
one,  that  old  and  precious  unity  which  Rome  founded  and 
broke  asunder,  and  which — who  knows? — it  may  be  the 
glory  and  the  happiness  of  our  children  to  create  again. 

So  much  for  the  city  of  old.     What  of  the  city  to-day  ?     Like 


» :  •»  »  ►• 


S.    MAKIA    DELL  A   SALUTE,    VENICE 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  39 

a  vast  precious  stone  sinking  into  the  mud  and  ooze  of  her 
lagoons,  Venice  is  to-day  vanishing  from  our  earth  in  the  sea 
distance  and  her  lapsing  tides.  Glorified  by  our  dreams  and 
her  smouldering,  tragic  sunsets,  she  is  gradually  disappearing 
behind  the  remotest  of  horizons.  Through  her  marvellous  and 
dying  streets  the  wet  sea  wind  passes  like  an  old  forgotten 
melody,  and  is  lost  in  the  desolate  lagoons  in  the  white  foam 
mist  of  the  sea.  Gradually  he  her  immortal  lover  is  gather- 
ing her  into  his  embrace ;  soon  he  will  kiss  her  on  the  mouth 
and  cleanse  her  from  all  the  abominations  that  we  have  made 
her  suffer.  She  was  too  beautiful  for  our  little  day :  therefore 
he  will  surround  her  with  his  inviolable  silence,  his  immaculate 
purity,  his  everlasting  strength. 

Is  she  not  vanishing,  will  she  not  be  lost  ?  Yet  even  now, 
just  before  she  is  gone,  shamed  as  she  is,  broken  in  heart 
and  without  a  soul,  she  seems  indeed  almost  to  illumine  the 
sky  rather  than  to  receive  light  from  it.  How  long  even  as 
we  see  her  can  she  remain  ?  Already  the  inevitable  decay 
of  the  piles  of  white  poplar  wood,  driven  into  the  mud, 
the  dredging  of  the  lagoon  and  the  tideway  for  the  huge 
modern  ships,  the  wash  and  swirl  and  hurry  of  the  passing 
steamboats  up  and  down  the  Grand  Canal,  that  was  surely 
never  meant  for  them — all  have  contributed  toward  the  down- 
fall of  what  was  once  so  majestic  and  so  lovely.  And  as 
though  this  were  not  enough,  the  new  barbarism  has  thrust 
upon  her  its  peculiar  vulgarity  and  haste,  and  her  sons, 
ready  to  batten  on  that  they  have  murdered,  eagerly  conceive 
for  themselves  a  future  in  which,  for  the  sake  of  money, 
great  chimneys  will  take  the  place  of  the  leaning  campanile 
vast  factories  will  occupy  the  foundations  of  the  magical 
palaces,  and  a  huge  industrial  capital  and  port,  shrouded 
in  smoke,  clanging  with  machinery,  filthy  with  mud  and 
groaning  with  misery,  will  rise  where  for  so  long  Venice  had 
her  inviolate  throne. 

She  remains  to  us — for  how  long?  She  remains  for  a 
moment  while  we  love  her,  in  the  solitude  and  silence  of  her 
limitless   horizon,  in  the  mysterious   loneliness  of  the  wide 


40  VENICE   AND  VENETTA 

lagoon,  in  the  twilight  under  the  evening  sky.  Still  the 
gondolas  at  evening  steal  back  from  the  Lido,  like  ghosts, 
silently  into  the  city  as  night  descends  from  the  mountains 
far  away.  Still  the  stars  peer  down  from  an  unimaginable 
height,  and  seem  like  great  golden  water-lilies  on  the  waters 
of  the  lagoon,  and  everywhere  there  is  a  kind  of  music : 
perhaps  it  is  the  weeping  of  the  oar,  perhaps  the  whisper  of 
the  lagoon  grass  through  which  the  gondola  passes,  cleaving 
a  disappearing  lane  as  it  goes  j  perhaps  the  musical  blow  of 
the  boat  itself  on  the  water  meeting  the  south  wind  coming 
over  the  sand  dunes  from  the  sea  j  and  at  evening  this  music 
only  becomes  more  distinct,  resolving  itself  into  singing  heard 
in  the  distance  to  the  accompaniment  of  mandolin  and  guitar. 
Under  the  unfathomable  serenity  of  her  sky  she  still  draws 
breath  at  evening,  but  how  languidly  !  Does  she  pray  then  in 
the  twilight  that  she  may  be  relieved  at  last  of  the  dis- 
orderly throng  of  sensible  things?  Hers  has  been  one 
of  those  sublime  moments  that  have  no  return.  Does  she 
remember  it  when  under  a  full  moon  all  her  domes  are 
glistening  with  silver  ?  Does  she  look  longingly  far  away  over 
the  lagoon,  where  that  path  of  pearl  stretches  away  to  the 
lidi  and  the  sea  ?  Far  away  from  her  thoughts  now  is  all  that 
lives  in  the  voices  and  mandolins  of  the  gondoliers.  What  is 
it  to  her  that  the  Piazza  is  full  of  men  and  women  whom  she 
knows  not,  or  even  that  in  the  Salute  they  have  ceased  singing 
Compline  ?  She  is  thinking  of  her  husband  the  Sea,  and  of  her 
destined  bridal  bed.  Let  us  pray  that  still  beautiful,  still  the 
most  lovely  city  of  our  world,  she  will  in  a  moment  be  lost  to 
us,  that  he  her  husband  will  not  greet  her  as  less  than  a  queen. 
All  the  spoils  of  the  splendid  ships,  all  the  beauty  of  his  prey, 
all  that  in  the  centuries  he  has  stolen  from  us,  all  the  sunshine 
he  has  stored  in  his  deep,  indestructible  caverns,  he  will  lavish 
upon  her,  and  every  night  he  will  deck  her  with  innumerable 
stars.  Ropes  of  seaweed,  opalescent  and  rare,  will  sway  like 
beautiful  snakes  in  her  hair,  banners  woven  by  the  secret  sway 
of  the  sea  shall  float  from  the  tall  campanili ;  on  her  left  hand 
shall  flash  the  mighty  ring;  and  over  her  heart  a  red  and 


VENETIA  AND  VENICE  41 

burning  sun  shall  flame.     Thus  in  the  silence  of  that  lucent 
world  the  sea  shall  make  her  his  own  at  last. 

Thus  when  I  evoke  her  image  does  she  appear  to  me 
enthroned  on  her  piles  sinking  into  the  mud,  encircled  by 
the  sea.  And  believing,  as  I  do,  that  one  day  a  great  cry  will 
go  up  for  all  that  she  was,  for  all  that  she  meant,  for  her 
beauty  and  her  splendour  and  her  strength,  when  it  is  too 
late,  I  desire  nothing  better  than  to  be  remembered  as  one 
who  loved  her  and  all  that  for  which  she  stood,  and  who  hated 
with  bitterness  and  despair  that  which  destroyed  her,  which 
her  spirit  will  one  day  everlastingly  vanquish. 


II 

S.   MARK'S 

THE  history  of  Venice,  perhaps  the  most  interesting  of 
any  city  State  save  that  of  Rome  itself,  is,  as  we  have 
seen,  divided  into  two  main  periods — the  Byzantine  and  the 
Italian ;  and  if  we  pursued  our  inquiry  a  little  further  and  a 
little  more  closely  we  should,  of  course,  find  the  Italian  period 
itself,  subdivided,  here  too,  into  the  same  cycles  that  we  recog- 
nize in  the  history,  in  the  thought,  and  in  the  art  of  every 
city,  not  only  in  the  Italian  peninsula  but  in  the  Western 
Empire — I  mean  the  Gothic  period,  the  Renaissance,  and  the 
Baroque.  Very  fortunately  for  the  student,  as  it  happens,  all 
these  various  moods  of  the  Venetian  soul  are  quite  perfectly 
expressed  in  those  buildings  which  for  ourselves,  as  for  our 
fathers,  may  be  said  to  stand  as  the  symbol  of  the  city,  to  be 
for  the  mind's  eye  Venice  itself — I  mean  the  Cathedral  of 
S.  Mark,  the  Palace  of  the  Doges,  the  Piazza  and  the 
Piazzetta.  We  shall  therefore  take  these  in  order,  finding  the 
Byzantine  city  summed  up  and  expressed  once  for  all  in 
S.  Marco,  the  Gothic  in  the  Doge's  Palace,  the  Renaissance 
and  the  Baroque  in  the  Piazza  and  Piazzetta,  where,  in  fact, 
the  whole  development  and  decline  of  the  Renaissance  may 
be  studied  more  satisfactorily  and  completely  than  anywhere 
else  in  the  city. 

We  shall  begin,  then,  with  San  Marco,  and  for  these  reasons. 
But  before  we  make  any  examination  of  the  church,  it  may  be 

42 


S.  MARK'S  43 

as  well  to  decide  what  exactly  the  Church  of  San  Marco  is. 
And  to  begin  with  let  us  say  at  once  that  during  all  the  thou- 
sand years  of  the  Republic  it  was  never  the  Cathedral  of 
Venice ;  it  only  became  the  seat  of  the  Bishop  and  Patriarch 
in  1807.  For  in  this,  too,  as  in  so  many  other  things,  Venice 
is  like  England — that  the  seat  of  her  Archbishop  was  not  the 
capital,  but  always  a  provincial  city.  Till  145 1  it  was  estab- 
lished at  Grado,  where  the  old  Patriarchate  of  Aquileia  was 
set  up.  Ecclesiastically  Venice  was  entirely  dependent  upon 
Grado,  just  as  England  is  and  always  has  been  ecclesiastically 
dependent  not  on  London  but  on  Canterbury.  From  1091 
till  145 1  a  Suffragan  Bishop  ruled  Venice  from  S.  Pietro  di 
Castello,  but  in  145 1  the  seat  of  the  Patriarchate  was  removed 
from  Grado  to  S.  Pietro  di  Castello,  where  it  endured  till, 
eleven  years  after  the  fall  of  the  Republic,  Napoleon  had  it 
removed  to  S.  Marco. 

But  if  the  Church  of  S.  Marco  was  not  the  Cathedral  of 
Venice,  what  was  it  ?  It  was  the  chapel  of  the  Doges.1  What 
Westminster  Abbey  was  to  the  Crown  and  realm  of  England 
that  the  Church  of  S.  Marco  was  to  the  Doge  and  Republic  of 
Venice.  It  was  the  Doge's  chapel,  the  church,  as  we  have 
seen,  where  he  was  obliged  to  take  the  oath  on  his  election ; 
it  stood,  too,  in  much  the  same  relation  both  theoretically 
and  materially  to  the  Palace  of  the  Doges  as  Westminster 
Abbey  did  to  the  King's  Palace;  moreover,  it  contained, 
as  Westminster  did,  for  centuries  the  chief  shrine  of  the 
State,  the  tomb  of  S.  Mark.  Yet  S.  Mark  was  by  no  means 
the  first  or  only  patron  of  Venice  any  more  than  was  S.  Edward 
of  England.  Indeed,  he  was  the  latest,  as  was  the  Confessor, 
and,  like  him,  he  never  stood  alone  as  the  patron  of  the  State, 
though  he  may  often  have  seemed  to  do  so  in  the  popular 
imagination.  For,  like  S.  Edward,  S.  Mark  seemed  to  per- 
sonify the  patriotism  and  the  achievement  of  a  people,  and  to 
point  the  way  to  a  future  that,  like  ourselves,  the  Venetians 
won  in  his  name. 

In  S.  Mark's,  then,  we  have  the   great   State  Church  of 
1  In  the  Chronicles,  "Sancti  Marci  Ducalis  Cappella." 


44  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

Venice — a  secular  and  official  building  if  you  will,  as  West- 
minster is  a  Royal  building,  in  which  all  the  splendour  of  the 
State,  its  strength,  health,  and  wealth  are  expressed.  Even 
the  dedication  to  S.  Mark  is  a  State  affair,  a  political  rather 
than  an  ecclesiastical  manifesto.  For  the  patron  saints  of 
Venice,  always  numerous  as  we  have  seen,1  and  wholly  eccle- 
siastical in  their  appointment,  were  early  half  forgotten  in  the 
continual  movement  of  the  central  government  from  Grado  to 
Torcello,  from  Torcello  to  Malamocco.  It  was  only  when 
the  Republic  finally  established  itself  on  Rialto  that  S. 
Theodore,  the  martyr  and  patron  of  that  island,  came  to 
be  regarded  as  the  tutelar  of  Venice,  which  in  some  sort 
he  remained  to  the  end.  Even  in  the  ninth  century  a  church 
under  his  dedication  is  said  to  have  occupied  the  site  of 
S.  Marco,  and  for  long  after  that  was  destroyed  his  body  lay 
in  the  old  Scuola  di  S.  Teodoro,  near  the  Church  of  S.  Sal- 
vatore,  while  even  to-day,  as  we  know,  his  statue  standing  upon 
the  crocodile,  his  symbol,  adorns  one  of  the  two  great  pillars 
in  the  Piazzetta. 

S.  Theodore  was  the  first  patron  of  Rialto,  of  what  later 
became  the  centre  of  the  city  of  Venice ;  it  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  till  about  829  that  S.  Mark  actually  became  the 
patron.  Some  time  before  that,  however,  as  we  may  believe, 
the  Venetians  had  recalled  the  legend  that  the  Evangelist  was 
Bishop  of  Aquileia,  and  was  indeed  shipwrecked  upon  their 
shores,  and  there  heard  that  voice  full  of  all  sweetness  and 
consolation,  "Pax  tibi  Marce,  Evangelista  Meus." 

"  Mark  the  Evangelist,"  says  Voragine,  "was  of  the  kindred 
of  the  Levites,  and  was  a  priest.  And  when  he  was  christened 
he  was  godson  of  S.  Peter  the  apostle,  and  therefore  he  went 
with  him  to  Rome.  When  S.  Peter  preached  there  the  Gospel, 
the  good  people  of  Rome  prayed  S.  Mark  that  he  would  put 
the  Gospel  in  writing  like  as  S.  Peter  had  preached.  Then  he 
at  their  request  wrote,  and  showed  it  to  his  master,  S.  Peter,  to 
examine ;  and  when  S.  Peter  had  examined  it,  and  saw  that  it 
contained  the  very  truth,  he  approved  it  and  commanded  that 
1  See  supra,  p.  20. 


S.  MARK'S  45 

it  should  be  read  at  Rome.  And  then  S.  Peter  seeing  S. 
Mark  constant  in  the  faith,  he  sent  him  into  Aquilegia  for  to 
preach  the  faith  of  Jesu  Christ,  where  he  preached  the  word 
of  God  and  did  many  miracles,  and  converted  innumerable 
multitudes  of  people  to  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  wrote  also  to 
them  the  Gospel,  like  as  he  did  to  them  of  Rome,  which  is  to 
this  day  in  the  Church  of  Aquilegia,  and  with  great  devotion 
kept. 

"  After  this  it  happed  that  S.  Mark  led  with  him  to  Rome  a 
burgess  of  that  same  city  whom  he  had  converted  to  the 
faith,  named  Ermagoras,  brought  him  to  S.  Peter,  and  prayed 
him  that  he  would  sacre  him  bishop  of  Aquilegia,  and  so  he 
did.  Then  this  Ermagoras  when  he  was  bishop  he  governed 
much  holily  the  church,  and  at  last  the  paynims  martyred 
him.  Then  S.  Peter  sent  S.  Mark  into  Alexandria,  whereas 
he  preached  first  the  word  of  God.  .  .  .  Now  it  happened 
on  Easter  Day,  when  S.  Mark  sang  Mass  there,  they 
assembled  all  and^  put  a  cord  about  his  neck,  and  after 
drew  him  throughout  the  city,  and  said :  Let  us  draw  the 
bubale  to  the  place  of  bucale.  And  the  blood  ran  upon  the 
stones  and  his  flesh  was  torn  piecemeal  that  it  lay  upon  the 
pavement  all  bebled.  After  this  they  put  him  in  prison,  where 
an  angel  came  and  comforted  him,  and  after  came  Our  Lord 
for  to  visit  and  comfort  him,  saying :  Pax  tibi  Marce,  Evan- 
gelista  Meus  j  Peace  be  to  thee,  Mark,  Mine  Evangelist !  be 
not  in  doubt,  for  I  am  with  thee  and  shall  deliver  thee.  And 
in  the  morn  they  put  the  cord  about  his  neck  and  drew  him 
like  as  they  had  done  before,  and  cried :  Draw  the  bubale. 
And  when  they  had  drawn  he  thanked  God  and  said  :  Into 
Thy  hands,  Lord,  I  commend  my  spirit,  and  he  thus  saying 
died.  Then  the  paynims  would  have  burnt  his  body,  but  the 
air  began  suddenly  to  change  and  to  hail,  lighten,  and  thunder 
in  such  wise  that  every  man  enforced  him  to  flee  and  left 
there  the  holy  body  alone.  Then  came  the  Christian  men 
and  bare  it  away  and  buried  it  in  the  church  with  great  joy, 
honour,  and  reverence. '  This  was  in  the  year  of  Our  Lord  57, 
in  the  time  that  Nero  was  Emperor. " 


46  VENICE   AND   VENETIA 

There  the  body  remained,  according  to  "  The  Golden 
Legend,"  till  the  year  466,  according  to  the  Venetian 
chroniclers  till  about  the  year  820. l  In  the  latter  year,  as 
we  may  suppose,  a  decree  had  been  made  by  the  Eastern 
Emperor,  which  the  Doge  had  been  forced  to  acknowledge, 
that  no  intercourse  should  take  place  even  for  purposes  of 
commerce  between  the  Christian  powers  and  the  unbelievers. 
Here  I  think  we  have  the  source  of  the  vast  popularity  of  and 
enthusiasm  for  S.  Mark  in  Venice,  and  the  true  reason  why  he 
became,  as  did  S.  Edward  the  Confessor  for  us,  a  sort  of 
national  symbol,  his  name  a  warcry,  and  his  shrine  the  centre 
of  the  State. 

It  will  be  obvious  to  anyone  who  has  followed  the  outline 
of  Venetian  history  in  the  previous  chapter  that  Venice  was 
before  all  else  a  commercial  State,  a  city  of  merchants,  and 
that  since  she  depended  both  upon  the  East  and  upon  the 
West  for  markets,  it  was  one  of  her  greatest  political  neces- 
sities to  keep  herself  independent  of  both  the  Eastern  and 
the  Western  Emperors.  The  decree  of  Leo  V  must  have 
threatened  her  very  existence,  and  she  must  often  have 
reminded  herself  that  she  owed  him  no  allegiance  and  that 
it  was  but  a  political  necessity  which  forced  her  to  obey  his 
decree.  Therefore  when  two  Venetian  seamen,  Buono  da 
Malamocco  and  Rustico  da  Torcello,  disobeyed  the  Imperial 
order,  fitted  out  a  ship  with  stuff  for  the  Eastern  markets,  set 
sail  secretly  for  Alexandria,  sold  their  goods,  and  brought  back 
to  Venice  the  body  of  S.  Mark,3  the  whole  city  and  State 
could  not  but  see  in  such  a  miraculous  good  fortune  the 
establishment  once  and  for  all  of  their  independence  of  the 

1  The  two  accounts  agree  in  most  particulars  save  that  of  date.  They 
both  agree  in  naming  "the  Emperor  Leo."  But  there  was  a  Leo  I 
Emperor  in  466  and  a  Leo  V  Emperor  in  820. 

8  They  are  said  to  have  bribed  the  Pagan  keepers  of  the  tomb  in  Alex- 
andria to  sell  them  the  body.  And  having  it  they  placed  it  in  a  cart  and 
covered  it  with  the  carcases  of  swine,  knowing  that  the  Mohammedans 
would  not  then  examine  their  load.  So  they  brought  their  rich  booty 
aboard. 


S.  MARK'S  47 

Emperor  of  their  absolute  right  to  freedom  of  trade.  The  effect 
at  any  rate  was  magical.  S.  Mark  deposed  S.  Theodore,  and 
became  then  once  and  for  all  the  symbol  of  the  city,  the  war- 
cry  of  the  Republic,  the  foundation,  as  it  were,  of  all  that 
was  most  vital  in  Venice. 

We  of  the  modern  world  cannot,  I  think,  allow  ourselves  to 
see  in  the  advent  of  S.  Mark  to  Venice  mere  chance  and 
good  fortune.  Just  there  I  think  we  uncover  one  of  those 
profound  and  even  prophetic  acts  which  our  own  country  has 
so  often  known  how  to  perform.  If  it  were  not  the  Republic 
herself  who  sent  Buono  da  Malamocco  and  Rustico  da 
Torcello  on  that  adventure,  then  indeed  the  splendour  of 
S.  Edward's  shrine  was  of  pure  devotion,  the  riches  heaped 
upon  it,  the  everlasting  glory  and  beauty  of  the  church  which 
it  created  is  but  a  folly,  and  the  graves  of  the  great  kings 
which  stand  everywhere  within  its  shadow  are  only  there  by 
chance.  But  the  shrine  of  S.  Mark,  as  we  know,  like  the 
shrine  of  S.  Edward,  became  the  rallying-place  of  a  nation, 
of  a  nation  beaten  and  enslaved  in  England  that  for  more 
than  two  hundred  years  looked  with  a  wild  regret  upon 
the  holy  tomb  of  the  last  of  the  English  kings,  of  a 
nation  thwarted  and  in  fear  in  Venice  that  in  a  great 
and  bold  adventure  had  found  itself  and  founded  for  ever 
in  the  new  grave  of  the  Evangelist  its  own  freedom,  glory, 
and  riches. 

I  say  this  cannot  be  doubted.  Note  how  the  Republic 
received  the  holy  body,  the  fruit  of  its  defiance  of  the 
Emperor.  All  the  people  of  Venice,  we  read,  came  down 
to  the  lagoon,  and  the  noblest  of  Venice  bore  upon  their 
shoulders  the  priceless  burden,  bearing  it  within  the  chapel 
of  the  Ducal  Palace  with  cries  from  island  to  island,  from 
Grado  even  to  Malamocco,  "  Viva  San  Marco ! "  the  new 
battle-cry  of  the  Republic.  Such  was  the  coming  of  S. 
Mark  to  Venice,  and  ever  after  the  Republic  bore  as  arms 
the  Lion  and  the  Book,  and  she  wrote  therein  these  words 
as  her  motto,  "  Pax  tibi  Marce,  Evangelista  Meus." 

Nor  was  this  all.     The  old  church  of  S.  Teodoro,  which 


48  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

had  stood  where  S.  Mark's  stands  to-day,  was  pulled  down, 
and  a  new  church  was  built  as  a  shrine  for  the  Evangelist. 
This  new  church  was  burnt  down  in  976  ;  it  cannot  have 
stood  in  any  case  much  more  than  one  hundred  years.  In 
that  fire,  it  is  said  by  many,  the  body  of  S.  Mark  perished. 
Whether,  indeed,  this  were  so  or  not  matters  little.  S.  Mark 
had  fulfilled  his  mission.  It  was  nevertheless  a  necessity  to 
rediscover  the  body,  and  this  was  duly  accomplished  under 
Doge  Vital  Falier  (1085- 1096).1 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  the  tenth  century  that  the  great 
church  we  see  to-day — the  greatest  Byzantine  building  that 
remains  in  our  possession  in  Europe,  for  the  Pagans  still  hold 
S.  Sophia — was  begun.  For  near  a  hundred  years  it  was  built 
stone  by  stone,  pillar  by  pillar,  capital  by  capital,  dome  by 
dome,  by  Byzantine  artists.  And  substantially  what  we  see 
to-day  is  that  Byzantine  church.  It  is  true  the  decorations 
are  for  the  most  part  far  later  work,  that  the  pinnacles,  for 
instance,  belong  to  another  and  later  mood  of  the  city  and  of 
Europe,  but  in  its  main  strength  S.  Mark's  is  still  a  Greek 
church,  the  work  of  Greek  builders,  an  alien  in  Western  Europe 
— a  church  of  the  Eastern  Empire. 

S.  Mark's,  then,  belongs  to  and  sums  up  Byzantine  Venice, 
that  far-off  heroic  city  looking  eastward  to  the  rising  sun,  iu 
the  shadow  of  Constantinople.     What  we  see.  of  later  work 

1  "  The  place  in  which  the  body  of  the  holy  Evangelist  had  rested  was 
lost,  so  that  Doge  Vital  Falier  was  ignorant  of  the  place  of  the  venerable 
deposit.  This  was  no  little  affliction  not  only  to  the  pious  Doge  but  to  all 
the  citizens  and  people  ;  so  that  at  last,  moved  by  confidence  in  the  Divine  * 
mercy,  they  determined  to  implore,  with  prayer  and  fasting,  the  mani- 
festation of  so  great  a  treasure,  which  did  not  now  depend  upon  any 
human  effort.  A  general  fast  being  therefore  proclaimed  and  a  solemn 
procession  appointed  for  the  25th  day  of  June,  while  they  assembled  in  the 
church  interceded  with  God  in  fervent  prayers  for  the  desired  boon,  they 
beheld  with  as  much  amazement  as  joy  a  slight  shaking  in  the  marbles  of  a 
pillar  [where  the  altar  of  the  Cross  is  now]  which  presently  falling  to  the 
earth,  exposed  to  the  view  of  the  rejoicing  people  the  chest  of  bronze  in 
which  the  body  of  the  Evangelist  was  laid."  So  far  the  chronicler. 
There  is  no  possibility  of  doubting  the  main  facts.  Even  Ruskin  accepts 
them  {cf.  "  Stones  of  Venice,"  vol.  ii,  cap.  iv,  "  S.  Mark's  "). 


•    »•-»*•■  •  •  • 

►  •••••     »    >         > , '  , 


S.   MARK'S  49 

there,  however,  is,  though  precious,  expressing  the  life  of  the 
city,  really  but  a  kind  of  vegetation — a  sign  of  age  upon  it. 
Those  pinnacles,  those  pointed  gables  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  reflect  the  Gothic  period  of  the  city,  then  newly 
Italian,  as  certainly  as  the  Doge's  Palace  can  do,  while  a  later 
and  less  noble  mood  has  left  its  marks  upon  the  church  in  the 
obtrusive  and  flagrant  mosaics  (all  save  one)  of  the  facade, 
works  of  the  Baroque  period,  when  all  that  was  really  Venice 
was  wounded  to  death  and  the  city  was  entering  that  second 
childhood  which  lasted  so  long,  till,  in  fact,  the  voice  of 
Napoleon  struck  her  suddenly  at  last  into  silence.  All  this 
we  shall  be  content,  more  than  content,  to  ignore,  setting  our- 
selves instead  to  discover  if  we  can  the  secret  of  this  so 
strangely  lovely  Byzantine  church,  whose  character  after  all  is 
but  brought  out  more  strongly  for  us  by  those  alien  ornaments, 
which  I,  for  one,  will  never  wish  away,  since  they  add,  as  it 
were,  a  certain  salt  to  what  must  always  remain  in  Western 
Europe  and  for  us  an  alien  loveliness. 

And  let  us  begin  our  examination  of  a  building  so  magnified 
by  fame  that  the  world  itself  would  not  seem  the  same  without 
it  by  setting  down  our  more  general  impression  of  it. 

If  S.  Mark's  strikes  us  first  by  the  Byzantine  character  of  its 
architecture,  its  crowd  of  domes,  the  vast  width  of  its  facade 
in  comparison  with  its  height,  it  impresses  us  next,  I  think,  by 
its  strangely  lovely  colour,  the  gold  and  blue  and  green  and 
red  of  its  mosaics,  colour  which  changes  with  every  change  of 
the  sky,  which  is  one  thing  in  the  blaze  of  a  summer  morning 
and  quite  another  on  an  autumn  afternoon  after  rain,  when 
the  sky  is  still  full  of  cloud  and  the  wind  comes  in  melancholy 
gusts  out  of  the  pale  gold  of  a  watery  sunset.  I  do  not  know 
under  the  influence  of  which  skv,  or  at  what  hour  of  the  day 
or  of  the  night  the  church  is  most  beautiful ;  I  only  know  it  is 
always  beautiful :  in  the  golden  summer  heat  or  standing  amid 
the  winter  snow,  or  in  the  spring  or  late  autumn  when  the 
Piazza  has  been  flooded  by  the  gale  in  the  Adriatic ;  but  I 
think  I  love  it  best  when  the  sky  clears  in  the  evening,  after  a 
day  of  rain  in  early  autumn,  when  some  delicate  and  pure 


50  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

light  has  suddenly  fallen  upon  the  world,  and  the  great  facade 
seems  for  a  moment  to  be  made  of  pearl  and  mother-of-pearl, 
to  reflect  every  colour  and  shadow  of  a  beauty  that  belongs  to 
the  sea.  Then,  as  the  pigeons  soar  in  many  clouds  about  the 
great  Piazza,  empty  at  that  hour  after  the  rain,  Venice  herself 
seems  to  me  to  look  out  of  that  marvellous  face  as  though 
recognizing  in  that  hour  something  peculiarly  her  own,  some- 
thing that  in  all  our  thoughts  of  her,  her  languid  beauty,  her 
wealth  and  strength  and  splendour,  we  have  always  unaccount- 
ably missed  :  the  wide  and  sad  horizons  of  the  sea,  the  vague 
motion  of  vast  waters,  the  coming  of  night,  the  emptiness,  the 
silence.  At  such  an  hour  in  the  flagstones  of  the  Piazza,  still  wet 
after  the  day's  rain,  the  great  facade  backed  by  its  domes,  the 
flagstaves  that  stand  before  it  on  the  pavement,  are  reflected 
there  as  a  ship  might  be  at  the  same  mysterious  hour  in 
the  grey-blue  sea;  it  is  as  though  some  vast  ship,  only  by 
conduct  of  some  star,  made  her  way  upon  the  waters :  a  ship 
of  pearl  in  which  a  thousand  vague  colours  burn  and  fade 
and  are  merged  into  the  grey  twilight  into  the  night  and  it 
is  gone. 

It  is  not  in  such  an  hour  as  that  after  a  day  of  rain  that  the 
many  will  see  S.  Marco :  they  desire,  and  how  rightly,  a 
morning  of  sun,  when  nothing  subtle  or  vague  is  to  be  found 
in  the  splendour  and  glitter  of  the  great  church  which  then 
greets  them  with  an  imperishable  smile.  In  that  morning  hour 
you  are  struck,  I  think,  chiefly  by  the  splendour  of  the  build- 
ing— and  it  is  very  splendid — and  perhaps  after  a  time  by  the 
extraordinary  variety,  both  without  and  within,  of  a  building 
that  is  after  all  not  very  large.  S.  Mark's  is  but  350  feet  long, 
and  at  its  widest  but  168  feet.  It  is  built  in  the  shape  of  a 
Greek  cross,  and  is  duly  set  east  and  west,  north  and  south, 
its  eastern  arm  being  structurally  divided  into  three  parts, 
each  with  semicircular  apse,  of  which  that  in  the  midst  con- 
taining the  High  Altar  projects  further  than  the  two  beside  it, 
originally  containing  the  Chapel  of  S.  Peter  on  the  Gospel 
side,  the  Chapel  of  S.  Clement  on  the  Epistle  side. 

This  simple  design,  a   cross  of   equal  arms,  is,  however, 


S.   MARK'S  51 

complicated  and  confused  in  any  view  of  the  church  from 
without  by  the  vast  Atrium  which  surrounds  the  church  up  to 
its  first  story  on  three  sides,  the  north,  the  west,  and  the 
south.  The  Atrium,  which  thus  encloses  the  church  on  three 
sides,  is,  as  you  find  at  once  on  entering  it,  by  no  means  a 
part  of  the  church  proper,  for  it  is  not  necessary  to  uncover 
there.  It  is  open  in  its  west  and  northern  parts,  but  its 
southern  part  has  been  screened  off  into  two  chapels,  which 
are  entered  from  the  church  itself,  the  Cappella  Zen,  into  which 
one  looks  from  the  Atrium,  and  the  Baptistery. 

Such  is  the  main  plan  of  the  building,  the  church  proper 
having,  as  has  been  said,  the  shape  of  a  Greek  cross.  Within, 
this  Greek  cross  is  roughly  divided  into  five  minor  parts — the 
nave,  the  two  transepts,  the  sanctuary,  corresponding  to  four 
arms  of  equal  length ;  in  the  midst,  where  all  these  arms 
meet,  there  is,  as  it  were,  a  square  central  portion,  which, 
like  each  of  the  four  arms,  is  covered  with  a  dome.  The 
nave  and  transepts  are  each  divided  into  three  aisles  by 
splendid  Byzantine  arcades,  bearing  open  galleries.  The 
eastern  arm  is  also  divided  into  three  parts ;  the  main  central 
part,  consisting  of  the  sanctuary  proper,  is  closed  on  the  west 
by  a  great  open  screen,  on  which  are  set  fourteen  statues  of 
S.  Mark,  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  the  Twelve  Apostles.  At 
the  east  it  is  closed  by  a  semicircular  apse,  and  on  the  north 
and  south  it  is  divided  from  the  chapels  originally  of  S.  Peter 
and  of  S.  Clement  respectively,  by  splendid  Byzantine  arcades. 
Each  of  these  chapels  is  closed  on  the  east  by  a  semicircular 
apse,  and  the  whole  of  this  eastern  arm  is  raised  above  the 
level  of  the  rest  of  the  church. 

Having  thus  obtained,  as  it  were,  a  main  plan  of  the  church 
in  its  several  parts  both  within  and  without,  let  us  consider  it 
in  more  detail.  And  before  attempting  to  describe  or  explain 
to  ourselves  this  wonderful  building  as  a  work  of  art,  let  us 
consider  it  for  a  moment  as  a  church  pure  and  simple,  the 
religious  expression  of  the  Catholic  Faith  as  Venice  and  the 
Government  of  Venice  understood  it,  and  as  the  shrine  of 
the  patron  saint  of  the  Republic. 


52  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

We  have  before  us  a  building  in  the  shape  of  a  great  cross, 
whose  arms  are  of  nearly  equal  length,  and  this  cross  is  sur- 
rounded on  three  sides  on  its  lower  story  by  a  vast  outer 
court  or  Atrium.     Why? 

The  Church  of  S.  Mark  is  the  Byzantine  or  Greek  form  of 
the  basilica,  it  is  the  Greek  translation  of  the  most  ancient 
form  of  Christian  church,  which  was  modelled  from  the  old 
Roman  court  of  justice,  and  which  can,  I  suppose,  best  be 
realized  to-day  in  S.  Clemente  in  Rome.  That  too  has  a  sort  of 
Atrium,  but  its  necessity  in  a  Christian  church  is  not  at  first 
obvious  to  us  of  this  late  day.  The  symbolism  of  the  cruciform 
church  is  easily  understood,  I  suppose,  even  by  us ;  but  that 
only  emphasizes  our  question,  Why  spoil  it  by  adding  an 
Atrium  ? 

The  origin  of  the  Atrium,  in  fact,  is  far  from  clear;  it 
seems  to  have  been  Eastern,  and  has  there,  indeed,  developed 
into  the  mosque  of  the  Moslems.  But  though  the  origin  of 
this  outer  court,  which  some  have  thought  represents  the 
Forum,  in  which  the  Pagan  basilicas  were  situate,  remains 
far  from  clear,  the  history  and  tradition  of  the  Church  do  not 
leave  us  in  doubt  as  to  its  use.  The  Atrium,  without  the 
church,  was  the  appointed  gathering-place  of  the  penitents 
and  the  catechumens  and  of  such  unbaptized  persons  as 
might  wish  by  any  means  to  gain  admission  after  trial  and 
examination  to  the  body  of  the  Faithful,  the  company  of 
Christ,  the  Church  Militant  here  on  earth.  These  persons  in 
the  earlier  ages  were  not  admitted  into  the  church,  they 
waited  without.  Later  the  full  rigour  of  this  custom  was 
relaxed,  and  the  catechumens  were  admitted  to  the  church  at 
certain  times  and  for  certain  parts  of  the  Mass  and  the  Divine 
Office,  but  they  were  obliged  to  retire  to  the  Atrium,  for 
instance,  after  the  Gospel  at  Mass. 

To  make  the  matter  quite  clear,  let  us  imagine  ourselves  in 
the  Atrium  of  such  a  church  as  S.  Mark's  on  Holy  Saturday, 
the  Vigil  of  Easter,  some  eight  or  nine  hundred  years  ago. 
At  the  hour  of  None,  about  three  in  the  afternoon,  the  clergy 
have   repaired  to  the  church,  and  the  greatest  vigil  of  the 


S.  MARK'S  53 

Christian  year,  a  vigil  that  even  then  was  growing  rare,  and  is 
now  practically  not  kept  at  all,  is  about  to  begin.  The 
church  is  crowded  with  the  Faithful,  the  Doge  and  the  great 
officers  of  the  Republic  are  in  their  stalls,  in  the  Atrium  are 
assembled  a  crowd  of  persons,  men,  women,  and  children, 
catechumens,  who  during  the  forty  days  of  Lent  have  con- 
tinually gathered  there,  seeking  admission  to  the  church. 
The  various  scrutinies  are  over,  the  teaching,  examinations, 
and  catechizings  are  finished,  they  are  about  to  be  admitted 
into  Christ's  flock. 

Within  the  church  porch  the  new  fire  is  kindled ;  the  first 
words  of  hope  after  the  terror  and  silence  of  Good  Friday 
are  heard  by  the  throng  of  postulants,  Lumen  Christie  and 
the  response,  as  though  one  dared  to  breathe  again,  Deo 
gratias.  The  spark  thus  struck  from  the  flint  and  greeted  so 
thankfully  in  the  porch  without,  lights  the  Paschal  candle  and 
the  whole  church,  the  new  fire  is  blessed  and  the  incense 
kindled ;  in  the  magnificent  tones  of  the  Preface  the  deacon — 
it  is  the  only  time  he  may  use  that  chant — proclaims  Easter  to 
the  people,  whose  hearts  thrill  to  his  Exsultet.  From  the 
Gospel  Ambo  the  Paschal  candle  burns.  Joy  is  come  into 
the  church,  and  without  in  the  Atrium  the  priest  is  performing 
the  preparatory  rites  over  the  catechumens.  He  signs  all 
upon  the  forehead  with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  from  each  is 
Satan  exorcised.  Touching  their  ears,  he  says,  "Be  ye 
opened " ;  touching  the  nostrils,  "  Breathe  ye  in  sweet 
fragrance."  Thereafter  he  anoints  each  catechumen  on  the 
breast  and  between  the  shoulders  with  the  oil  of  catechumens, 
made  ready  against  to-day  at  the  White  Mass  of  Holy  Thurs- 
day, receiving  in  turn  the  promise  of  each  to  renounce  the 
devil  and  all  his  works,  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  this  wicked 
world.  Thus  in  the  Atrium  the  catechization  proceeds ;  within 
the  church  are  read  the  Twelve  Prophecies,  followed  by  a 
collect  and  often  by  a  responsary,  chaunted  to  the  wonderful 
melody  of  the  Tract.  These  splendours  the  catechumens 
hear,  moving  at  last  in  procession  with  the  rest  of  the  people, 
though  separate  from  them,  towards  the  Baptistery.     There 


54  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

the  font  having  been  newly  blessed,  the  Paschal  candle,  the 
symbol  of  Christ,  having  been  plunged  thrice  into  the  holy 
water,  the  Holy  Oils  having  been  mingled  therein,  the  Bishop 
receives  the  catechumens  one  by  one,  the  men  and  boys  first, 
the  women  and  girls  after,  and,  each  stripped  to  the  waist,  is 
received  into  Christ's  Church,  under  the  sign  of  water.  Then 
all  newly  clad  in  white  proceed  in  order  for  their  confirmation. 
Led  by  their  sponsors,  they  come  one  by  one  to  the  Bishop, 
who  signs  each  with  the  Holy  Chrism.  Then  in  glad  proces- 
sion, singing  the  Litany  of  the  Saints,  they  return  to  the 
church  a  single  family,  and  now  in  the  earliest  dawn  hear  the 
Mass  of  Easter,  the  catechumens  there  making  their  first 
communion. 

I  have  explained  at  some  length  this  great  ceremony,  which 
belonged  more  particularly  to  the  Vigils  of  Easter  and  of 
Pentecost,  because  it  will  help  us  easily  to  understand  what 
the  Atrium  was  for,  as  well  as  many  things  otherwise  inexplic- 
able which  are  expressed  in  the  wonderful  decoration  of  its 
roof.  The  Atrium,  as  we  have  seen — as  we  may  see  any  day 
we  enter  it — is  not  part  of  the  church  proper ;  it  is  but  an 
outer  or  forecourt  of  it,  it  is  but  preliminary  to  it,  and  is 
inexplicable  if  it  were  to  stand  alone.  It  fulfils,  in  fact,  pre- 
cisely the  function  of  the  old  dispensation  to  the  new,  of  the 
Old  to  the  New  Testament.  In  it  there  is  but  one  prayer 
possible  to  man — Kyrie  Eleison.  And,  in  fact,  when  we  come 
to  examine  it  in  detail,  we  shall  find  that  the  whole  of  its 
decoration  is  concerned  with  the  Old  Testament,  and  that  it 
stands  in  the  same  relation  to  the  church  in  its  symbolism  as 
that  does  to  the  Gospels.  It  is,  if  you  will — and  remembering 
the  mosaics  of  S.  Maria  Maggiore  we  may  well  call  it  so — the 
synagogue,  as  the  greater  building  itself  is  the  church. 

This  greater  building,  the  church  proper,  is  here  in  S. 
Mark's  approached  from  the  Atrium  by  three  doors  in  the 
inner  facade — the  door  of  S.  Mark  in  the  centre,  which  leads 
straight  up  the  nave  to  the  High  Altar  and  the  tomb  of  the 
Evangelist ;  the  door  of  S .  Peter's,  on  the  left  or  Gospel  side, 
which  leads  straight  to  the  altar  of  S.  Peter ;  and  the  door  of 


S.  MARK'S  55 

S.  Clement  on  the  right  or  Epistle  side,  which  leads  straight  to 
the  altar  of  S.  Clement.  A  fourth  door  leads  out  of  the 
Atrium  into  the  north  transept,  where  of  old  it  led  to  the 
altar  of  S.  John,  now  the  altar  of  Our  Lady.  We  will  ignore 
this  door,  and  with  it  the  two  transepts  for  the  moment,  and 
confine  ourselves  to  the  main  church,  which,  seen  as  I  have 
described  it,  from  the  three  great  doors,  is  like  to  three 
churches  side  by  side,  with  an  altar  at  the  head  of  each,  thus  : 
the  door  of  S.  Peter,  leading  through  the  whole  length  of  the 
north  aisle  to  the  altar  of  S.  Peter,  opens  on  one  church ;  the 
door  of  S.  Mark,  leading  through  the  whole  central  nave  to 
the  High  Altar,  opens  on  another ;  and  the  door  of  S.  Clement, 
leading  through  the  whole  south  aisle  to  the  altar  of  S.  Clement, 
is  a  third. 

Taking  the  church  thus  we  shall  find  that  even  as  the 
decoration  of  the  Atrium  is  devoted  to  the  Old  Testament, 
so  the  decoration  here  is  devoted  to  the  New.  We  shall  find 
more,  for  we  shall  see  that  the  whole  of  the  central  church 
entered  by  the  door  of  S.  Mark,  and  leading  to  his  tomb,  is 
devoted  to  the  Birth,  Life,  Death,  Resurrection,  and  Ascension 
of  Our  Lord ;  that  the  two  other  churches,  as  it  were,  that  lie 
side  by  side  the  central  one,  including  the  transepts,  which  we 
shall  now  reckon  in  each  according  to  their  position,  the 
northern  with  the  church  of  S.  Peter,  the  southern  with  the 
church  of  S.  Clement,  are  concerned  with  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles  and  the  Saints ;  and  that  even  as  structurally  the 
church  is  made  one  in  that  square  central  space  under  the 
central  dome,  so  symbolically  in  its  decorations  the  parts  are 
here  joined  and  all  is  unified,  for  on  either  side  the  central 
space  the  mosaics  speak  of  the  ministry  of  Christ,  and  lead 
thus  logically  to  the  acts  of  His  apostles  and  servants. 

So  much  for  the  material  and  mystical  construction  of  the 
church.  When  that  is  well  grasped  the  examination  of  the 
church  in  detail  becomes  a  matter  of  delight. 

First,  however,  let  us  consider  the  facades.  These  consist 
everywhere  of  two  parts  as  seen  from  the  Piazzas,  the  facade 
of  the  Atrium  reaching  to  the  platform  at  the  first  story  and 


56  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

the  upper  part  of  the  true  facade  of  the  church  proper.  This 
is  obvious  at  once  as  we  gaze  on  the  great  western  front  from 
the  Piazza.  The  balcony,  on  which  are  set  the  mighty  bronze 
horses  of  Nero,  is  the  roof  of  the  Atrium  ;  below  it  stands  the 
false  facade,  the  facade  of  the  Atrium,  while  behind  the 
horses  rises  the  true  facade  of  the  church. 

The  lower,  or  false  facade,  consists  of  five  great  arches, 
two  of  equal  size  on  either  side  the  great  central  arch,  the 
whole  being  flanked  at  each  end  by  a  smaller  irregular  arch. 

The  great  central  arch  contains  the  beautiful  main  door- 
way into  the  Atrium  ;  in  its  lunette  is  a  modern  (1836)  mosaic 
of  the  Last  Judgment.  On  either  side  this  central  arch  are 
two  smaller  arches ;  the  first,  on  the  right,  contains  the  door- 
way into  the  Atrium  facing  the  door  of  S.  Clement  into  the 
church,  the  second  contains  a  window  looking  into  the  chapel 
of  S.  Zen ;  the  first,  on  the  left,  contains  a  doorway  into  the 
Atrium  facing  the  door  of  S.  Peter  into  the  church,  the  second 
a  door  into  the  northern  part  of  the  Atrium  opposite  the  door 
of  S.  John  into  the  left  transept  of  the  church.  These  four 
arches  contain  mosaics  of  the  translation  of  the  body  of 
S.  Mark  from  Alexandria  to  Venice. 

Beginning  on  the  right,  we  see  in  the  first  arch  the  body 
taken  from  the  church  in  Alexandria ;  placed  in  a  basket 
covered  with  vine  leaves ;  the  Saracens  examine  it  and  refuse 
to  touch  it,  thinking  it  to  be  pork.  In  the  second  arch  we 
see  the  arrival  of  the  ship  with  its  precious  burden  in  Venice  ; 
the  body  is  received  on  the  Piazzetta  by  a  procession  of  clergy 
and  people,  and  is  borne  ashore.  All  these  mosaics  date 
from  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  when  the  original 
thirteenth  century  works  were  ruthlessly  destroyed  to  make 
way  for  these  utterly  feeble  usurpers. 

In  the  first  arch,  to  the  right  of  the  central  doorway,  we  see 
the  body  received  by  the  Doge  and  officers  of  the  Republic. 
This  is  a  work  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  we  are  only 
aware,  perhaps,  how  feeble  it  is  when  we  compare  it  with  the 
majestic  and  splendid  work  beside  it  in  the  last  arch,  the  only 
mosaic   of  the  thirteenth   century  remaining  on  the  facade. 


S.  MARK'S  57 

There  we  see  the  body  borne  in  procession  to  its  shrine,  this 
very  church.  The  beauty  and  interest  of  this  mosaic  can 
scarcely  be  exaggerated,  for  we  see  in  it  the  facade  of  the 
church  of  S.  Marco  as  it  appeared  in  the  thirteenth  century, 
the  great  bronze  horses  in  place,  the  lunette  of  the  great 
central  doorway  filled,  not  as  it  is  to-day  by  the  feeble  faith 
and  achievement  of  the  seventeenth  century,  but  a  masterpiece 
of  a  far  earlier  age,  earlier  than  the  thirteenth  century,  a  half 
figure  of  Our  Lord  in  glory,  His  right  hand  raised  in  blessing. 
The  other  lunettes  are  empty ;  if  we  would  know  how  the 
thirteenth  century  filled  them  we  must  consult  Bellini's  picture 
in  the  Accademia.  Two  ecclesiastics,  apparently  a  bishop  and 
an  abbot,  bear  the  casket  in  which  the  body  of  the  Evangelist 
lies,  to  the  right  stand  the  Doge  and  his  officers,  to  the  left  a 
crowd  of  emperors,  kings,  queens,  and  princes,  perhaps  repre- 
sentative of  all  the  countless  royalties  who  had  visited  the 
shrine  when  the  mosaic  was  designed. 

We  now  turn  from  the  mosaics  to  consider  the  great  reliefs 
set  in  the  face  of  this  lower  facade  between  the  arches.  On 
either  side  of  the  great  arch  we  find  S.  Theodore  and 
S.  George,  two  ancient  protectors  of  the  Republic,  seated  on 
faldstools.  Beyond  these,  on  either  side,  is  an  Annuncia- 
tion, the  Madonna  with  her  arms  uplifted  in  the  Byzantine 
manner.  All  these  reliefs  are  of  the  thirteenth  century.  The 
two  beyond  them  at  either  end  of  the  facade  are  Pagan  works, 
though  possibly  as  late  as  the  sixth  century ;  they  represent 
two  labours  of  Hercules,  and  are  certainly  spoil  of  war. 

Such,  with  the  infinitely  lovely  clusters  and  groups  of 
columns  of  various  marbles  which  everywhere  go  to  support 
the  five  main  arches  and  the  two  porticos  in  a  double  story, 
are  the  chief  features  of  the  lower  western  facade.  Its  details 
are  innumerable,  and  often  unmatched  in  loveliness.  Consider, 
for  instance,  the  single  "  lily  capitalled  "  column  that  supports 
the  little  portico  at  the  northern  extremity  of  this  western 
facade  j  consider  the  details  of  each  doorway  and  arch,  the 
sculpture  there,  the  beauty  of  the  pillars  and  their  capitals, 
the  reliefs  of  the  months  and  the  handicrafts  and  the  prophets 


58  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

in  the  vaults  of  the  main  archway,  the  variety  and  perfection 
of  work  that  is  as  far  beyond  our  power  to  execute  to-day  as  is 
the  understanding  of  that  spirit  which  achieved  it. 

Above  the  strength  and  splendour  of  this  lower  facade  rises 
like  some  marvellous  chant  the  glory  of  the  upper  or  true  face 
of  the  church,  fronted  by  the  four  great  horses  of  gilded 
bronze  over  the  main  gateway.  The  disposition  of  this  upper 
facade  is  similar  to  the  lower ;  it  too  consists  of  four  arches, 
their  lunettes  filled  with  mosaics  set  about  a  central  main 
arch,  here  filled  with  glass  and  forming  the  western  window  of 
the  church.  Before  this  window,  on  the  platform  that  is  the 
roof  of  the  Atrium,  stand  the  golden  horses  of  Nero.  These 
are  the  spoil  of  war ;  they  are  the  trophies  of  the  capture  of 
Constantinople  by  the  Doge  Enrico  Dandolo  at  the  head  of 
the  Crusade  in  1204.  For  some  they  are  Greek  works  of  the 
school  of  Lysippus,  and  whether  Greek  or  Roman,  they  are 
part  of  the  quadriga  that  adorned  the  triumphal  arch  of  Nero, 
and  later  that  of  Trajan  in  Rome,  which  Constantine  the 
Apostate  took  to  Byzantium  to  give  lustre  to  his  new  capital. 
There  the  podesta  Zen,  whose  chapel  we  shall  consider  later, 
found  them  when  he  held  Constantinople  for  Venice  in  1204. 
He  sent  them  to  her  as  spoil,  and  they  were  set  up  as  we  see 
them  now.  There  they  remained  till  another  Emperor, 
Napoleon  I,  in  1797  carried  them  off  once  more,  to  adorn  his 
capital,  to  decorate  the  triumphal  arch  he  set  up  in  the  Place 
du  Carrousel.  In  1815,  however,  they  were  returned  to 
Venice  by  the  Emperor  Francis  I,  into  whose  hands  Venice 
had  fallen. 

The  great  central  arch  of  this  upper  facade  is  filled,  as  has 
been  said  already,  by  the  western  window  of  the  church ;  the 
two  arches  on  either  side  each  have  a  small  window,  but  their 
lunettes  are  filled  with  mosaics  of  the  life  of  Christ.  The 
subjects  begin  at  the  extreme  left  with  the  Descent  from  the 
Cross,  then  follow  the  Descent  into  Hades,  the  Resurrection, 
and  the  Ascension  ;  they  are  works  of  the  seventeenth  century 
similar  to  those  in  the  lunettes  of  the  lower  or  false  facade. 
The  false  gables  over  each  arch,  the  pinnacles  between  them 


,    >      >    )    1      I 


' 


; 


■ 


■•■  * 


i 


ri 


S.  MARK'S  59 

and  the  statues,  had  no  place  in  the  original  Byzantine  facades, 
but  are  additions,  picturesque  but  unhappy,  of  the  late  Gothic 
manner  of  the  fifteenth  century. 

Turning  now  to  the  northern  facades  in  the  Piazza  dei 
Leoni,  we  find  the  same  division  as  in  the  great  west  front — 
that  is  to  say,  the  lower  facade  is  that  of  the  Atrium,  the  upper 
that  of  the  church.  Broken  by  the  thrust  of  the  transept,  the 
lower  facade  is  covered  with  various  reliefs  which  seem  to 
have  no  connexion  the  one  with  the  other,  while  the  upper 
or  true  facade  is  carved  with  work  mainly  or  wholly  decorative. 
The  door  into  the  Atrium,  the  Porta  dei  Fiori,  is  Gothic  in 
character,  with,  however,  more  than  a  suggestion  of  the  East. 

The  same  arrangement  of  false  and  true  facade  meets  us  on 
the  south  side  of  the  church,  where  before  the  beautiful  open 
portico  stands  the  Pietra  del  Bando,  the  low  red  pillar  of 
marble  from  which  the  Laws  of  the  Republic  were  declared. 
The  two  square  carved  pillars  beyond  it  are  Byzantine,  and 
came  as  spoil  from  the  Church  of  S.  Saba  at  S.  Jean  d'  Acre ; 
they  were  taken  from  the  Genoese  in  1256  by  Lorenzo 
Tiepolo. 

Standing  back  in  the  Piazzetta  we  see  the  whole  of  this 
south  front,  perhaps  the  most  beautiful,  and  certainly,  in  its 
upper  part,  the  richest  facade  of  the  church.  The  two  pierced 
screens  of  the  upper  fagade,  the  little  arch  between  them  with 
its  famous  mosaic  of  the  Madonna,  before  which  the  two  lamps 
that  have  been  lighted  every  night  for  hundreds  of  years  still 
burn,  are  worthy  of  this,  the  sea-front  of  S.  Mark's.  Nor  can  we 
fail  to  delight  in  the  jutting  angle  of  the  Treasury,  with  its 
ancient  marbles  and  fine  porphyry  relief  of  four  figures 
embracing  in  pairs,  which  is  also  spoil  from  S.  Jean  d'  Acre. 

So  much  for  the  outside  of  the  church,  which  in  its  richness 
and  colour  has  no  equal  in  Europe.  We  now  turn  to  the 
interior  and  first  to  the  Atrium. 

I  said  that  this  was  built  for  the  unbaptized  and  the 
penitents,  persons  either  outside  or  temporarily  exiled  from 
Christ's  Church.  For  this  reason  its  mosaics  are  wholly 
devoted   to   the   Old   Testament   story,  to   the  life  of  man 


60  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

before  Christ  had  come  to  redeem  him.  One  enters  the 
Atrium,  of  course,  by  the  beautiful  main  door  in  the  western 
facade.  Coming  thus  into  it,  you  face  the  door  of  S.  Mark 
with  its  great  lunette  filled  with  a  sixteenth-century  mosaic 
of  the  Evangelist  after  a  design  by  Titian.  Beneath,  in 
the  arches,  are  early  mosaics  of  the  Madonna  and  six  Apostles 
and  under  them  the  four  Evangelists.  It  is  not,  however,  with 
these  we  are  at  present  concerned,  but  with  the  work  in  the 
Atrium  proper,  which  begins  in  the  cupola  nearest  the  Piazzetta 
and  the  sea. 

Here  we  see  in  mosaics  of  the  thirteenth  century  the 
beginning  of  the  history  of  the  world  and  of  man,  their  creation 
and  their  fall.  Then  the  story  is  continued  past  the  door  of 
S.  Clement  with  the  birth  of  Cain  and  Abel,  their  sacrifices 
and  the  murder  of  Abel,  and  the  curse  of  Cain,  furthest  from 
the  church.  The  story  is  continued  with  the  history  of  Noah, 
the  building  of  the  Ark,  the  Flood,  and  return  of  the  dove 
with  the  olive  branch,  the  sacrifice  of  Noah  and  the  re- 
occupation  of  the  earth.  Later  Noah  plants  a  vineyard,  is 
overcome  by  drunkenness,  is  seen  in  his  shame  by  Ham, 
is  covered  by  Shem  and  Japhet;  Ham  is  cursed  and  Noah 
dies.  Then  Babel  is  built — as  it  were  the  clock-tower  of 
Venice — and  the  tongues  of  men  are  confounded  by  the  Lord 
in  glory  with  His  legions  of  angels.  By  the  door  of  S.  Peter  the 
story  is  continued  with  the  history  of  Abraham,  who  is  sent  by 
God  out  of  Ur ;  in  Sodom  Lot  is  made  prisoner,  while 
Abraham  and  Melchisedech  meet.  Then  Abraham  encounters 
the  king  of  Sodom  and  Sarah  brings  her  handmaid  Hagar  to 
him.  Hagar  flees  to  the  wilderness,  is  comforted  by  an  angel, 
and  Ishmael  is  born  and  circumcized.  Abraham  receives  the 
three  Strangers  and  serves  them  while  Sarah  laughs.  Isaac  is 
born  and  circumcized.  For  some  reason  not  quite  clear  this 
cupola  is  borne  by  the  four  greater  prophets. 

The  story  is  continued  into  the  northern  part  of  the  Atrium 
with  the  history  of  Joseph,  which  occupies  three  cupolas  and 
their  parts.  In  the  last  cupola  we  come  to  the  history  of 
Moses,  that  prototype  of  Our  Lord:  "as  Moses  lifted  up  the 


S.  MARK'S  61 

serpent  in  the  wilderness,  even  so  must  the  Son  of  man  be 
lifted  up." 

Entering  the  church  by  the  great  door  of  S.  Mark,  just  that 
is  in  fact  what  the  catechumen  would  first  see;  for  looking 
back  as  of  old  custom  to  salute  the  sun  as  he  entered  the 
church,  he  would  see  high  up  above  the  door  Our  Lord 
enthroned  between  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  S.  Mark.  And  all 
around  him  he  would  find  reminders  of  the  way  he  had  come 
and  of  Him  who  had  led  him  to  this  holy  place.  For  that 
Christ  enthroned  holds  an  open  book,  where  is  inscribed :  / 
am  the  door ;  by  Me  if  any  man  enter  in,  he  shall  be  saved. 
And  over  is  written  again  :  I  am  the  gate  of  life ;  let  those  who 
are  Mine  enter  by  Me.  And  over  again  these  words  are  set, 
Who  He  was,  and  from  whom  He  came,  and  at  what  price  He 
redeemed  thee,  and  why  He  made  thee  and  gave  thee  all  things, 
do  thou  consider. 

Considering  thus  as  he  was  taught,  lifting  his  eyes  in  thank- 
fulness, what  did  he  see  ?  He  saw  the  Dove,  the  Holy  Spirit 
enthroned  in  the  height  of  the  cupola,  and  from  it  proceeding 
twelve  streams  of  fire  upon  the  twelve  Apostles  there,  and 
beneath  all  the  nations  who  hear  the  word  as  at  the  first  Pente- 
cost every  man  in  his  own  tongue,  and  at  the  four  angles  in  the 
vaults  he  saw  four  angels,  each  bearing  a  banner,  and  thereon 
inscribed  :  Sanctus,  Sanctus,  Sanctus,  Dominus,  and  round  the 
border  of  the  great  cupola  he  read  the  rest  of  these  angels'  song : 
Deus  Sabaoth  Pleni  sunt  coeli  et  terra  gloria  tua  Hosanna  in 
excelsis.  Benedictus  qui  venit  in  nomine  Domini.  And  kneel- 
ing there  he  would  catch  for  a  moment  surely  some  shadow  of 
the  holiness  of  his  God.  Thus,  as  the  Psalmist  had  foretold, 
he  would  enter  His  courts  with  praise. 

Raising  his  head  from  this  contemplation,  he  would  under- 
stand why  he  must  with  praise  enter  these  courts.  For  on  the 
vault  between  the  first  and  second  cupolas  he  would  see  the 
Redemption  of  the  world,  the  Passion  of  Christ,  the  Treason 
of  man,  the  Crucifixion,  the  Descent  into  Hades,  the  Resurrec- 
tion. And  passing  on,  the  whole  of  that  triumph  of  God  over 
Sin  and  Death  would   burst  upon  him  in   the  central  great 


62  VENICE  AND  YENETIA 

cupola  where  Christ  is  caught  up  into  heaven  amid  the  angels 
to  prepare  a  place  for  us.  There  he  would  read  these 
words  under  the  figures  of  the  Madonna  and  the  astonished 
Apostles  and  those  two  angels  who  appeared  at  the  moment 
of  Ascension ;  it  is  their  words  he  reads :  Ye  men  of  Galilee, 
why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven  1  This  Christ,  the  Son  oj 
God,  as  He  is  taken  from  you,  shall  so  come  the  arbiter  of  the 
earth,  trusted  to  do  judgment  and  justice.  And  immediately  he 
sees  the  four  Evangelists  who  bear  witness  to  the  world,  sym- 
bolized, I  think,  by  the  four  great  rivers — Pison,  Gihon,  Tigris, 
and  Euphrates,  of  all  these  things  and  the  virtues  which 
spring  from  that  witness  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

The  great  central  cupola  and  the  Ascension  of  Christ  bring 
us  to  the  sanctuary  itself  and  its  great  treasure,  the  shrine  of 
S.  Mark.  It  is  guarded,  as  has  been  said,  by  the  beautiful 
screen  on  which  are  set  the  Crucifix  and  fourteen  statues  :  Our 
Lady,  S.  Mark,  and  the  Twelve  Apostles.  The  cupola  under 
which  stands  the  High  Altar  represents,  I  think,  the  kingdom 
of  Heaven.  The  mosaic  there  shows  us  Christ  enthroned  as 
the  Messiah  surrounded  by  the  patriarchs  and  prophets.  It  is 
for  this  reason,  I  think,  that  the  arch  before  the  sanctuary  is 
concerned  with  the  infancy  of  Our  Lord — for  "unless  ye  become 
as  little  children,  ye  cannot  enter  the  kingdom  of  Heaven." 
Here  in  the  sanctuary  beside  the  great  shrine  and  beyond  it 
the  altar  of  S .  Mark  with  its  four  alabaster  columns  from  the 
Temple  of  Solomon  and  mosaic  in  the  apse,  are  many  beautiful 
and  wonderful  things,  such  as  those  cipollino  pillars  carved  in 
high  relief  that  uphold  the  baldacchino  of  verde  antico — all 
work  of  the  tenth  century — and  the  Pala  d'  Oro ;  but  to  consider 
them  here  would  confuse  us  in  our  examination  of  the  church 
as  a  whole  and  its  mystical  teaching  and  significance. 

When  the  catechumen  or  pilgrim  had  come  so  far,  and  had 
in  the  very  kingdom  of  Heaven  paid  his  respects  to  the  shrine 
of  the  Evangelist,  he  would  find  himself  once  more  in  that 
central  space  under  the  great  dome  of  the  Ascension  where  all 
the  church  is  one.  Turning  either  to  right  or  left,  lifting  up 
his  eyes,  he  would  see  on  either  hand  scenes  from  the  ministry 


S.  MARKS  63 

of  Our  Lord.  Passing  thence  into  the  north  aisle,  he  would 
have  come  straight  to  the  altar  of  S.  Peter,  in  the  chapel  at  the 
head  of  the  north  aisle — the  altar  of  S.  Peter  who  was  the  chief 
captain  appointed  by  Christ  to  carry  on  His  ministry  and  who 
was  also  the  godfather  of  S.  Mark.  The  whole  north  aisle, 
from  the  door  in  the  western  facade  to  this  altar  in  the  apse, 
seems  to  be  devoted  to  S.  Peter  as  Prince  of  the  Apostles  and 
to  their  ministry  which  he  controlled. 

The  north  transept  is,  however,  not  his,  but  belongs  to  the 
Madonna  and  to  her  divinely  adopted  son,  S.  John.  Above, 
on  the  left,  is  a  late  mosaic  representing  the  genealogy  of  the 
Madonna,  while  close  by  is  the  Cappella  dei  Mascoli,  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  with  mosaics  of  the  death  of  the  Virgin.  All 
this  is  late  work,  as  is  the  chapel  of  Our  Lady  in  the  eastern 
aisle  of  the  transept.  This  was  formerly  the  chapel  of  S.  John, 
to  whom,  in  fact,  the  whole  transept  once  belonged,  being 
entered  by  his  door,  Porta  di  S.  Giovanni. 

Proceeding  now  once  more  to  the  central  space  under  the 
great  dome  of  the  Ascension  and  thence  into  the  south  aisle, 
we  enter  the  church,  as  it  were,  of  S.  Clement,  the  successor,  as 
was  believed,  of  S.  Peter  in  the  Papacy,  the  second  great 
captain  of  the  Church,  the  patron  of  sailors.  And  just  as 
the  northern  part  of  the  church  which  is  S.  Peter's  is  devoted 
to  the  Apostles  and  the  Madonna,  so  the  southern,  which  is 
S.  Clement's,  is  devoted  to  the  Saints.  The  present  chapel  of 
the  Blessed  Sacrament  in  the  eastern  aisle  of  the  transept  was 
formerly  dedicated  to  S.  Leonard,  and  the  mosaics  there 
devoted  to  his  life  still  remain.  Here  also  is  an  altar  of 
S.  James,  and  the  representation  of  very  many  saints  dear  to 
Venice  and  her  subject  islands  and  cities. 

Thus  the  whole  church  spreads  itself  before  us  like  a  kingdom 
and  like  a  book  in  which  is  established  and  in  which  we  may 
read  the  whole  Christian  mythos,  and  the  scheme  of  govern- 
ment which  re-established  our  unity  and  produced  the  flower 
of  the  Middle  Age.  To  attempt  to  discover  to  the  reader  the 
whole  of  this  kingdom,  to  decipher  the  whole  of  this  book  in 
its  completeness,  would  require  a  space  at  least  as  great  as  that 


64  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

in  which  I  propose  to  deal  not  with  the  Church  of  S.  Mark,  but 
with  Venice  and  Venetia.  All  I  propose  to  do  here  I  have 
already  done  in  giving  the  reader  the  key  to  this  mystery  as  I 
understand  it,  and  in  emphasizing  what  in  many  visits  during 
many  years  has  become  daily  more  clear  to  me  :  that  the 
Church  of  S.  Mark  is  as  profoundly  a  unity  in  its  decoration  as 
it  is  in  its  construction,  and  that  though  the  variety  of  both 
may  seem  to  obscure  this  fact,  every  day  of  study  and  atten- 
tion will  but  make  it  clearer. 

We  are  left,  then,  with  but  two  parts  of  this  great  building  to 
explore,  and  they  properly  belong  not  to  the  church  itself,  but 
to  the  Atrium  :  I  mean  the  Baptistery  and  the  Cappella  Zen. 
It  was  not  till  the  thirteenth  century  that  these  two  chapels 
were  established,  and  I  imagine,  though  I  am  not  sure,  that 
before  that  date  S.  Mark's  had  no  Baptistery,  a  Venetian  child 
being  taken  then  to  S.  Pietro  di  Castello  for  baptism.  However 
that  may  be,  it  was  in  the  thirteenth  century  that  this  Baptistery 
and  the  Cappella  Zen  were  built  in  the  Atrium,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  fourteenth  century  Doge  Andrea  Dandolo  covered 
the  whole  of  the  interior  of  the  former  with  mosaics.  The 
Baptistery  thus  became  not  only  the  chapel  of  St.  John 
Baptist  and  the  universal  font  of  Venice,  but  in  a  sense  the 
mausoleum  of  the  great  Doge  to  whom  it  owed  its  beauty. 

The  Baptistery  was  apparently  entered  from  the  Atrium  or 
the  Cappella  Zen  by  the  small  vaulted  chamber  we  see  there 
filled  with  mosaics  of  the  life  of  Christ  before  His  baptism. 

The  font  itself  is  a  later  work  of  1545,  with  reliefs  by  Desiderio 
da  Settignano  and  of  Minio  of  Padua  and  a  statue  of  S.  John 
Baptist  by  Segala.  The  mosaic  of  the  Crucifixion  with  the 
Madonna,  S.  John  Evangelist,  S.  Mark,  and  S.  John  Baptist, 
with  the  donor  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  summarizes  the 
mystery  of  Baptism  here  in  S.  Mark's,  and  the  rest  are  in  their 
beauty  devoted  to  the  life  of  the  Baptist.  The  chapel  also 
contains  a  curious  relic — the  slab  of  stone  on  which  S.  John 
was  beheaded.  In  the  cupola  above  the.  font  we  see  Christ 
with  S.  Mark  and  the  Apostles.  Our  Lord  holds  a  scroll  on 
which  is  written  that  first  and  last  command  :  "  Go  ye  there- 


S.   MARK'S  65 

fore  and  teach  all  nations,  baptizing  them  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  And  under 
is  written  where  S.  Mark  and  the  Apostles  fulfilled  this 
command  :  as  S.  Mark  in  Alexandria,  S.  John  in  Ephesus,  S. 
James  in  India,  S.  Peter  in  Rome,  S.  Matthias  in  Palestine ; 
while  in  the  pendentives  are  the  four  Greek  Fathers — S. 
Athanasius,  S.  John  Chrysostom,  S.  Gregory  Nazianzen,  and 
S.   Basil. 

The  cupola  over  the  altar,  like  the  cupola  over  the  High 
Altar  of  the  church,  represents  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  to  which 
by  baptism  we  are  admitted.  There  we  see  Christ  surrounded 
by  angels,  the  archangels,  thrones,  dominations,  powers,  the 
virtues  of  Heaven,  and  the  blessed  Seraphim  and  Cherubim, 
and  all  the  company  of  Heaven  as  in  the  Preface.  In  the  pen- 
dentives are  the  four  Latin  Fathers — S.  Gregory,  S.  Ambrose, 
S.  Jerome,  and  S.  Augustine.  The  altar  is  spoil  from  Tyre, 
and  behind  it  is  a  relief  of  the  Baptism  of  Christ. 

Before  the  main  door  of  the  chapel  is  the  tomb  of  the 
great  Doge  who  made  all  this  so  fair — Andrea  Dandolo — a 
splendid  work  of  the  fourteenth  century. 

The  Cappella  Zen  was  originally  erected  to  mark  the  first 
resting-place  of  the  body  of  S.  Mark  in  Venice.  There- 
fore it  is  decorated  with  mosaics  of  his  life.  It  afterwards 
became  famous  as  the  scene  of  a  miracle  of  the  Madonna, 
who  there  gave  her  golden  shoe  to  a  poor  pilgrim ;  hence  its 
later  name  of  the  Cappella  della  Scarpa.  Then  in  the  six- 
teenth century  the  Cardinal  Zen,  nephew  of  Pope  Paul  II,  a 
Venetian,  died  and  left  his  vast  fortune  to  the  Republic, 
which  erected  the  great  tomb  we  see  there  in  his  honour. 

So  we  come  once  more  into  the  Piazza ;  but  before  finally 
leaving  let  us  consider  the  church  once  more  as  the  mystical 
monument  it  is  to  the  Faith  of  Venice,  the  Faith  she,  more 
than  any  other  power  in  Christendom,  continually  championed 
against  the  infidel.  What  I  have  said  of  S.  Mark's  has  been 
but  a  hint,  as  it  were,  of  its  true  splendour  and  meaning.  The 
profound  and  subtle  beauty  of  the  thought,  of  the  religion,  it 
stands  for  is  not  to  be  expressed  in  the  few  pages  of  a  book 


66  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

or  to  be  rightly  praised  or  understood  even  after  many  visits. 
That  which  was  achieved  only  after  many  years,  in  the  course 
of  centuries,  and  at  the  expense  of  the  whole  energy  of 
a  city  like  Venice,  cannot  be  apprehended  in  a  few  hours 
by  even  the  cleverest  of  us.  It  sums  up  the  whole  of 
one  period,  and  that  not  the  least  heroic,  in  the  life  of  the 
Republic.  It  has  been  called  ugly,  has  been  continually 
despised,  and  is  even  now,  after  all  the  eloquence  of  Ruskin, 
but  coldly  appreciated.  Yet  in  many  ways  and  from  many 
points  of  view  it  is  the  most  venerable  and  the  most  beautiful 
building  left  to  us  in  Europe,  coming  to  us  from  the  earliest 
Middle  Age  with  all  the  wonder  of  the  East  in  its  golden, 
dim  aisles  and  all  the  beauty  of  the  West  in  its  space  and 
splendour.  And  though  for  us  of  the  North,  expressing  our 
love  in  a  manner  so  different  in  a  grey  world  of  low  and  often 
leaden  sky,  of  snow  and  frost  and  intermittent  sunshine,  S. 
Mark's  must  always  remain  a  kind  of  wonder,  we  too,  if  we 
will,  may  there  find  our  origins  and  understand  better  there 
perhaps  than  anywhere  else  to-day  in  Christendom  that  we 
were  once  brethren,  the  sheep  of  one  pasture,  one  flock  having 
one  shepherd. 


Ill 

THE    DOGE'S    PALACE 

IF  the  Church  of  S.  Mark  sums  up  and  expresses  the 
Byzantine  city ;  the  Palace  of  the  Doges  may  be  said  to 
bear  witness  in  its  architecture  to  the  Gothic,  in  its  contents 
to  the  Renaissance,  splendour  of  a  city  that  more  than  any 
other  State  in  the  Italian  peninsula  has  known  how  to  express 
herself. 

The  beautiful  site  which  the  Palace  still  occupies  and 
adorns  is  in  itself  unique  in  Europe,  Westminster  alone  being 
able  to  bear  comparison  with  it.  In  that  site  we  may  find  if 
we  will  indeed  the  whole  character  of  the  Venetian  people — 
their  love  of  splendour,  their  dependence  on  the  mastery 
of  the  sea. 

Nor  is  the  choice  of  this  site  a  thought  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  when  Venice  had  in  truth  found  herself,  as  the  Palace 
which  now  fills  it  is.  From  the  beginning,  when  in  810  the 
Rialto  had  become  the  capital  of  the  Republic,  it  was  here  on 
this  very  spot  that  the  Palace  of  the  Government  was  built,  and 
this  becomes  obvious  to  us  at  once  when  we  remember  that 
S.  Mark's  and  its  predecessors,  the  Church  of  S.  Theodore 
even,  were  but  the  chapels  of  the  Doges  and  for  that  reason 
alone  became  the  great  shrine  in  Venice. 

As  early  certainly  as  813  a  palace  has  stood  upon  this  spot; 
for  more  than  a  thousand  years  the  home  of  Venetian  govern- 
ment has  been  mirrored  there  in  the  Venetian  sea.  The  first 
Palace,  however,  was  doubtless  very  different  from  that  we  see 
to-day  j  it  was  a  Byzantine  building  and,  as  we  may  suppose, 

67 


68  VENICE  AND  VENETIAN 

must  have  resembled  those  Byzantine  palaces  which,  though 
dilapidated,  are  in  some  sort  still  left  to  us  on  the  Grand  Canal, 
the  Palazzo  Loredan,  the  Palazzo  Fasetti,  and,  best  of  all,  the 
so-called  Fondaco  dei  Turchi. 

This  building  was  several  times  burnt  down,  and  when  the 
final  restoration  was  made  in  1173  by  the  Doge  Sebastiano 
Ziani  there  can  have  been  very  little  left,  one  may  suppose,  of 
the  first  building. 

The  Ziani  Palace,  however,  was  still  wholly  Byzantine,  and 
so  it  remained  for  more  than  a  hundred  years,  till  the  present 
Gothic  building  was  begun  and  gradually  during  the  fourteenth 
and  fifteenth  centuries  took  its  place,  for  so  late  as  1422  half 
of  the  Ziani  Palace  was  still  standing,  as  the  Chronicle  of 
Pietro  Dolfino  assures  us. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  in  the  midst  of  the  long  struggle 
with  Genoa  for  sea  power  Venice  suffered  many  defeats;  at 
Aias,  in  the  Gulf  of  Alexandretta,  Niccolb  Spinola  defeated  the 
Venetian  fleet,  and  again  at  Curzola  Lamba  Doria  with  eighty- 
five  Genoese  ships  outmanoeuvred  Andrea  Dandolo  and,  em- 
ploying the  tactics  that  had  been  successful  at  Meloria  against 
Pisa,  won  a  complete  victory  over  the  Venetians.  This  was  in 
the  year  1298.  The  great  aristocrat  and  patriot,  Gradenigo  I, 
had  then  been  Doge  for  ten  years.  Sansovino  calls  him  "a 
man  prompt  and  prudent,  of  unconquerable  determination 
and  great  eloquence,  who  laid,  so  to  speak,  the  foundations 
of  the  eternity  of  this  Republic  by  the  admirable  regulations 
which  he  introduced  into  the  government."  J  Many  students 
have  since  contested  this  verdict,  their  minds  set  on  the  vain 
and  empty  vision  of  democracy,  for  it  was  Gradenigo  I  who 
in  the  midst  of  defeat  established  the  oligarchy  which  for  so 
long  vindicated  and  upheld  the  greatness  of  the  Venetian 
Republic.  He  it  was  who  in  1296  closed  the  Great  Council 
to  the  people  at  large  and  fixed  the  number  of  the  Senate 
within  certain  limits.2  This  profound  revolution,  out  of  which 
was  to  come  victory  and  that  wise  and  stable  government 

1  Cf.  Ruskin,  "Stones  of  Venice,"  vol.  ii,  cap.  viii. 
2  See  supra,  p.  23. 


THE   DOGE'S   PALACE  69 

which  was  to  win  and  secure  for  Venice  her  great  and  happy 
Empire,  had  its  effect,  as  we  might  suppose,  on  the  great 
Palace  Ziani  had  restored  and  enlarged.  A  great  saloon 
was  necessary  for  the  new  Great  Council,  and,  as  Sansovino 
tells  us,  "in  1301  a  saloon  was  begun  on  the  Rio  del  Palazzo 
under  the  Doge  Gradenigo  and  finished  in  1309,  in  which 
year  the  Great  Council  first  sat  in  it."  It  is,  then,  in  the  first 
year  of  the  fourteenth  century  that  we  see  the  present  Palace 
begun. 

That  Palace,  like  its  predecessors,  has  three  facades — the 
Piazzetta  fagade,  which  in  the  Byzantine  Palace  was  the 
principal,  the  sea  facade,  and  the  facade  on  the  canal  that 
passes  under  the  Ponte  della  Paglia  and  the  Bridge  of  Sighs, 
which  was  and  is  known  as  the  Rio  facade.  It  was  here  that 
the  new  saloon  was  built.  For  the  new  and  Gothic  Palace 
was  to  be  wholly  the  work  of  the  aristocratic  oligarchy. 
Little  by  little  it  was  to  consume  and  take  the  place  of  the 
old  Byzantine  Palace  of  Ziani  as  little  by  little  the  oligarchy 
was  to  possess  itself  of  the  Central  Government.  This  Gothic 
saloon,  long  since  destroyed,  was  situated  just  behind  the 
Bridge  of  Sighs  as  far  as  possible  from  observation,  for,  as 
has  been  said,  the  main  facade  of  the  Ziani  Palace  was  on 
the  Piazzetta.  Other  chambers,  the  Cancellaria  and  the 
Torresella,  all  now  destroyed,  were  presently  added  to  it 
when  the  Tiepolo  conspiracy  in  1310,  just  a  year  after  the 
Great  Council  had  begun  to  sit  in  the  new  chamber,  gave  the 
Central  Government  an  opportunity  and  an  excuse  for  streng- 
thening its  power.  In  1300  Marino  Bocconio  had  conspired 
against  the  oligarchy  without  success;  in  13 10  a  number  of 
nobles,  Tiepolos,  Querinis,  Badoers,  did  the  same  thing  with 
the  same  result ;  but  the  Government  seized  the  opportunity 
to  strengthen  itself:  it  created  the  famous  Council  of  Ten. 
That  was  the  last  and  crowning  work  of  Doge  Gradenigo, 
who  had  made  Venice  as  strong  an  oligarchy  as  Oliver  Crom- 
well made  England.  That  Council,  too,  would  need  its 
saloon,  but  before  anything  was  added  to  the  Palace  Gradenigo 
was  dead.     His  successor  lived  but  a  year.     Then  came 


70  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

Giovanni  Soranzo,  who  in  his  turn  added  nothing,  and  then 
in  1329  Francesco  Dandolo,  third  of  his  name,  who  added  the 
great  gate  which  was  later  destroyed  to  make  way  for  the 
Porta  della  Carta.  It  was  his  successor,  the  second  Gradenigo, 
however,  who  added  a  new  council  chamber  for  the  Senate, 
which  found  the  semi-secret  saloon  too  small  and  perhaps  too 
mean.  For  the  oligarchy  was  perfectly  established  and  needed 
no  disguise.  In  1340,  when  Gradenigo  had  been  Doge  a 
year,  a  Committee  of  Three  was  formed  to  decide  where  the 
new  Hall  of  the  Great  Council  should  be  built.  They 
reported  in  the  same  year  that  the  new  Hall  should  be  built 
on  the  sea,  or,  as  they  called  it,  on  the  Grand  Canal.  Their 
report  was  adopted,  and  it  was  thus  in  1340  was  begun  the 
great  Sala  del  Maggior  Consiglio  which  is  still  one  of  the 
wonders  of  the  world. 

For  consider  the  pride,  confidence,  and  joy  of  the  oligarchy. 
It  was  on  the  sea  itself  they  founded  their  council  chamber. 
Out  of  the  very  waves  it  rose  on  that  marvellous  double 
arcade  which  still  astonishes  us  and  contains  in  itself  half  the 
magic  of  Venice.  In  those  days  the  Riva  and  that  part  of 
the  Piazzetta  where  the  two  columns  stand  was  not  thought 
of.  The  sea  front  of  the  Palace  rose  up  out  of  the  waves,  and 
within  that  Hall  so  majestically  reared  met  the  Government 
that  ruled  the  first  great  sea  power  of  Europe. 

This  marvellous  work  took  twenty-five  years  to  complete 
and  was  interrupted  by  plague  and  conspiracy — the  conspiracy 
of  Marino  Falier.  In  1365  Guariento  was  able  to  paint  his 
Paradise  upon  the  wall  where  Tintoretto's  now  hangs,  yet  the 
magnificent  decorations  of  the  roof  were  not  undertaken  till 
thirty-five  years  later,  and  it  was  not  till  the  year  1423  that  all 
was  finished.  These  decorations  were,  of  course,  not  those 
we  see  now,  but  a  much  simpler  scheme  representing  the 
heavens  covered  with  stars.  To  the  Doge  Steno  we  still  owe 
the  magnificent  balcony  of  the  Great  Hall,  though  the  work 
above  it  is  in  part  of  more  recent  date.1 

In  1423  the  Great  Council  sat  for  the  first  time  in  its  new 
1  See  Ruskin,  op.  cit.,  vol.  ii,  cap.  viii. 


THE   DOGE'S  PALACE  71 

chamber.  Thus  the  great  Gothic  Palace  was  built  beside  the 
Byzantine  Palace  of  Ziani  which  faced  the  Piazzetta.  That  old 
Palace — for  reverence  for  ancient  buildings  because  they  are 
ancient  is  a  rare  and  modern  emotion — was  no  doubt  an 
eyesore  to  many  who  then,  as  now,  would  have  all  things 
always  new,  but  for  a  time  the  depletion  of  the  exchequer  in 
the  mainland  wars  and  the  necessity,  now  felt  for  the  first 
time,  of  defending  a  land  frontier  forbade  the  fulfilment  of 
any  such  desire.  Indeed,  such  a  scheme  was  felt  to  be  a 
danger  to  the  Republic  and  a  law  was  actually  passed  that 
any  who  in  the  Council  should  so  much  as  propose  it  should 
suffer  a  fine  of  one  thousand  ducats.1  In  141 9,  however,  a 
fire  broke  out  in  the  old  Palace,  to  the  injury  both  of  it  and 
of  the  Church  of  S.  Mark.  Then  the  Doge  Mocenigo  I, 
being  anxious  for  the  glory  of  the  Republic,  took  the  matter 
in  hand.  He  did  not  wish  to  restore  the  old  Palace,  but 
determined  at  last  to  rebuild  it  on  the  plan  of  the  new. 
Therefore  he  had  the  thousand  ducats  carried  into  the  council 
chamber  and  spoke  as  follows,  saying,  "Since  the  late  fire 
has  burned  in  great  part  the  ducal  habitation  (not  only  his 
own  private  palace,  but  all  the  places  used  for  public  business) 
this  occasion  was  to  be  taken  for  an  admonishment  sent  from 
God,  that  they  ought  to  rebuild  the  Palace  more  nobly  and  in 
a  way  more  befitting  the  greatness  to  which  by  God's  grace 
their  dominions  had  reached ;  and  that  his  motive  in  proposing 
this  was  neither  ambition  nor  selfish  interest;  that  as  for 
ambition  they  might  have  seen  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life, 
through  so  many  years,  that  he  had  never  done  anything  for 
ambition,  either  in  the  city  or  in  foreign  business,  but  in  all 
his  actions  had  kept  justice  first  in  his  thoughts  and  then  the 
advantage  of  the  State  and  the  honour  of  the  Venetian  name ; 
and  that,  as  far  as  regarded  his  private  interest,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  this  accident  of  the  fire,  he  would  never  have  thought 
of  changing  anything  in  the  Palace  into  either  a  more  sumptuous 

1  An  excellent  law  which  I  suggest  the  modern  Venetians  should 
revive  and  apply  to  all  their  old  buildings.  It  would  tame  many  Jewish 
schemes,  and  Venice  might  recommend  it  to  Rome. 


72  VENICE   AND   VENETIA 

or  a  more  honourable  form ;  and  that  during  many  years  in 
which  he  had  lived  in  it  he  had  never  endeavoured  to  make 
any  change,  but  had  always  been  content  with  it  as  his  pre- 
decessors had  left  it ;  and  that  he  knew  well  that  if  they  took 
in  hand  to  build  it,  as  he  exhorted  and  besought  them,  being 
now  very  old  and  broken  down  with  many  toils,  God  would 
call  him  to  another  life  before  the  walls  were  raised  a  pace 
from  the  ground.  And  that  therefore  they  might  perceive 
that  he  did  not  advise  them  to  raise  this  building  for  his  own 
convenience,  but  only  for  the  honour  of  the  city  and  its 
Dukedom.  ...  In  order,  as  he  had  always  done,  to  observe 
the  laws,  ...  he  had  brought  with  him  the  thousand  ducats 
which  had  been  appointed  as  the  penalty  for  proposing  such  a 
measure,  so  that  he  might  prove  openly  to  all  men  that  it  was 
not  his  own  advantage  that  he  sought,  but  the  dignity  of  the 
State. 

To  this  speech  there  was  no  reply.  The  thousand  ducats 
were  unanimously  devoted  to  the  work,  which  was  imme- 
diately taken  in  hand.  That  was  in  1422;  the  new  Palace, 
the  Hall  of  the  Great  Council,  was  not  then  perfectly  com- 
plete. The  Senate  did  not  use  it  until  the  following  year,  and 
then  Mocenigo  was  dead.  It  was  Francesco  Foscari  who 
actually  undertook  the  new  building  and  was  the  first  Doge 
to  preside  in  the  present  Hall  of  the  Great  Council. 

Thus  the  old  Palace  of  Ziani  was  destroyed  and  the  new 
Palace  continued  on  its  rich  arcades  over  the  old  site  facing 
into  the  Piazzetta. 

The  destruction  of  the  old  Byzantine  Palace  may  well  strike 
us  as  a  vandalism  as  great  as  the  destruction  of  old  S.  Peter's. 
Yet  in  giving  any  such  verdict  we  must  remember  that  in 
those  days  men  were  still  capable  of  replacing  an  old  nobility 
with  a  new.  When  the  Norman  Abbey  of  Westminster  was 
destroyed,  the  church  of  the  Confessor,  Henry  III  was  able 
to  replace  it  by  the  incomparable  building  we  still  enjoy,  but 
if  we  were  to  destroy  Henry's  church  what  could  we  put  in  its 
place  ?  The  vandalism  of  our  forefathers,  though  it  be  none 
1  Sanuto,  "Cronica,"  apud  Ruskin,  op.  cit.^  vol.  ii,  cap.  viii. 


THE  DOGES  PALACE  73 

the  less  vandalism,  is  to  be  excused  in  this,  that  they  knew 
how  to  replace  what  they  destroyed  and  even  more  worthily.1 

What  have  we  then  to-day  in  the  Doge's  Palace  ?  We  have 
a  building  in  part  of  the  fourteenth  and  in  part  of  the  fifteenth 
century.  To  the  fourteenth  century  belongs  that  part  of  the 
Palace  which  consists  of  the  Hall  of  Great  Council  with  its 
supporting  arcades.  To  the  fifteenth  belongs  the  Piazzetta 
facade.  To  this  must  be  added  the  Porta  della  Carta, 
begun  by  Doge  Foscari  in  1439  and  the  interior  buildings 
with  which  it  is  connected  added  in  1462  by  Doge  Cristoforo. 
Then  in  1479  came  another  great  fire  which  destroyed  that 
part  of  the  fpalace  which  faced  the  Rio,  and  it  became 
necessary  to  rebuild  this  both  within  and  without.  This 
work  was  not  completed  till  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century. 

But  the  Palace  was  not  yet  done  with  its  enemy  fire.  In 
1574  a  vast  conflagration  destroyed  all  the  upper  halls  on  the 
sea  facade  and  all  the  pictures  of  the  Hall  of  Great  Council, 
together  with .  a  good  part  of  the  rooms  in  the  Rio.  The 
building  can  have  appeared  as  little  more  than  a  ruin.  And 
in  fact  it  was  debated  whether  or  no  it  should  be  pulled 
down  and  rebuilt.  Happily  this  was  not  attempted :  yet 
Palladio  counselled  it.  Nevertheless,  it  was  decided  to  repair 
the  old  Gothic  building  as  Francesco  Sansovino  had  advised. 
It  was  now  that  the  prisons,  hitherto  at  the  top  of  the  Palace 
in  the  tower,  were  erected  on  the  further  side  of  the  Rio  and 
the  Bridge  of  Sighs,  built  by  Antonio  da  Ponte  to  connect 
them  with  the  Palace  and  the  present  Rio  facade,  was  begun, 
while  the  whole  Palace  was  re-adorned  with  pictures.  Thus 
we  have  in  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  complete 
Palace  we  see  to-day,  unique  in  its  beauty  as  in  its  site  and, 
let  us  hope,  for  ever  one  of  the  glories  of  the  world. 

Now  in  any  general  view  of  it  from  without,  when  we  have 

1  Yet  Mr.  Ruskin,  not  without  reason,  dates  the  decay  of  Venice  from 
the  destruction  of  the  Ziani  Palace,  the  vandalism  of  Mocenigo.  "  It  was 
the  knell  of  the  architecture  of  Venice,"  he  says,  "and  of  Venice  herself" 
(Ruskin,  op.  cit.^  vol.  ii,  cap.  viii.). 


74  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

felt  the  wonder  and  excellence  of  its  loveliness,  the  splendour 
of  its  great  double  arcades,  the  fortitude  and  simplicity  and 
beauty  of  colour  of  the  rosy  upper  facade,  what  chiefly  strikes 
us,  I  suppose,  is  the  great  groups  of  sculpture  that  adorn  each 
of  the  three  visible  angles  of  the  facades.  These  three  angles 
are  now  universally  known  as  the  Fig  Tree  Angle,  the  Vine 
Angle,  and  the  Judgment  Angle.  They  consist  in  each  case 
of  a  great  column  and  vast  capital,  surmounted  by  a  sculp- 
tured group  in  the  lower  arcade ;  of  a  smaller  pillar  and 
capital  surmounted  by  an  angel  in  the  upper  arcade;  and 
finally  of  a  spiral  shaft  with  a  niche  over  all.  They  form, 
indeed,  the  cornerstones  of  the  building,  and  we  shall  find 
the  whole  meaning  of  the  Palace  in  the  sculpture  upon 
them. 

And  first  the  Fig  Tree  corner.  This  joins  the  sea  facade 
to  the  Piazzetta  facade,  and  is  thus  the  chief,  in  any  view  of 
the  Palace.  The  group  of  sculpture  upon  it,  one  of  the 
loveliest  in  Europe,  represents  the  Fall  of  Man,  and  teaches, 
I  suppose,  Fear  and  Humility  and  Obedience  :  above  is  S. 
Michael  Archangel  with  his  drawn  sword.  The  Vine  corner 
joins  the  sea  facade  to  the  Rio  facade.  The  group  of  sculp- 
ture here  represents  the  Drunkenness  of  Noah  and  teaches 
Temperance  and  Modesty  :  above  is  S.  Raphael  Archangel 
with  Tobias.  The  Judgment  corner  joins  the  Piazzetta 
facade  with  that  part  of  the  Palace  which  faces  S.  Mark's  by 
the  Porta  della  Carta.  The  group  of  sculpture  here  re- 
presents the  Judgment  of  Solomon,  a  Florentine  work  of 
the  fifteenth  century :  above  is  S.  Gabriel  Archangel  with  the 
Annunciation  Lily,  perhaps  the  earliest  Renaissance  figure 
in  Venice.  Here  we  have  the  Justice  of  the  old  Dispensa- 
tion, ruthless  and  exact,  but,  with  the  Annunciation  of 
Gabriel,  to  be  tempered,  to  be  overwhelmed  with  mercy.  No 
longer  will  Judgment  alone,  as  Solomon  has  said,  come  from  the 
Lord,  for  Christ  is  announced  to  perform  the  mercy  which  He 
promised  to  our  forefather  Abraham.  On  these  cornerstones, 
then,  of  Obedience,  Temperance,  and  Justice  with  Mercy  the 
Venetian  Republic  wished  to  found  itself. 


THE  DOGE'S   PALACE  75 

If  now  we  proceed  further  to  examine  the  facades  of  the 
Palace  we  shall  note,  as  we  stand  on  the  Ponte  della  Paglia, 
that  the  southern  part  of  the  Rio  facade  is  bare,  while 
the  northern  part  is  heavy  with  work  of  the  high  Renaissance. 
The  sea  facade,  the  most  beautiful  of  all,  is  broken  in  its 
symmetry  very  happily  by  the  lower  level  of  the  two  eastern 
windows,  which  still  retain  their  tracery,  and  by  the  splendid 
arch  and  balcony  of  the  Sala  del  Maggior  Consiglio, 
while  all  is  crowned  by  a  statue  of  Venice.  The  capitals 
of  the  columns  here  are  all  different  and  full  of  symbolical 
sculptures  of  emperors  and  philosophers  and  virtues  and 
vices,  and  I  know  not  what  else.  They  have  been  much 
restored.  In  the  Piazzetta  facade  we  note  that  the  first  two 
windows  are  part  of  the  Sala  del  Maggior  Consiglio,  and 
thus  are  part  of  the  fourteenth-century  Palace.  The  rest  of 
this  facade  belongs  to  the  fifteenth  century  and  was  built  by 
Doge  Francesco  Foscari  on  the  site  of  the  old  Byzantine 
Palace  of  Ziani.  It  is  crowned  by  a  statue  of  Venice 
between  her  lions,  beneath  which  kneels  the  Doge  Francesco 
Foscari  before  the  Lion  and  the  Book.  In  the  niches  here, 
for  the  first  time,  we  see  Pagan  deities  represented,  and  are 
thus  confirmed  in  our  knowledge  of  the  Renaissance  origin  of 
the  work.  Here,  too,  the  capitals  are  variously  sculptured 
with  symbolical  figures  of  lawgivers  and  various  trades. 

We  now  proceed  to  examine  the  interior  of  the  Palace. 
We  enter  by  the  splendid  Porta  della  Carta,  where  the 
Government  had  its  proclamations  read.  It  is  the  work  of 
Bartolommeo  Buon  (1443).  Above  is  Justice  again  en- 
throned between  the  Lions  of  Venice  under  S.  Mark  with 
the  Book.  The  relief  of  Doge  Cristoforo  kneeling  before 
the  Lion  of  S.  Mark  is  a  restoration ;  at  the  sides  in  niches 
are  four  virtues — Charity,  Prudence,  Hope,  and  Fortitude. 
Coming  into  the  great  courtyard  of  the  Palace,  we  notice  its 
general  Renaissance  character,  especially  the  rich  Eastern 
facade  j  but  the  south  and  west  sides  are  for  the  most  part 
Gothic  work  of  the  fourteenth  century,  the  upper  story  being 
still  in  brick.     The  two  bronze  well  heads  are  of  fine  sixteenth- 


76  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

century  workmanship.  It  is  here,  in  fact,  that  we  leave  the 
Gothic  Palace  and  all  memory  of  the  Gothic  city  and  are  face 
to  face  with  the  Renaissance — the  small  court  on  the  north 
of  the  Scala  dei  Giganti,  built  in  1520  by  Bergamasco,  the 
Scala  itself,  built  by  Rizzo  in  1484.  The  whole  interior  of 
the  Palace  with  its  decorations  and  pictures  belong  to  the 
Renaissance  city  and  do  not  rightly  form  a  part  of  this 
chapter  but  of  the  next.  Yet  I  think,  indeed,  that  the 
unity  of  the  Palace,  what  it  stood  for  in  Venice,  is  of  more 
importance  to  us  than  any  rigid  adherence  to  a  division, 
valuable  though  it  be,  that  would  necessitate  our  dealing  in 
separate  chapters  with  the  exterior  and  the  interior  of  the 
Palace  of  the  Doges.  We  shall,  then,  merely  remind  ourselves 
that  in  passing  under  the  Porta  della  Carta  we  pass  from  the 
Gothic  city  into  the  Renaissance  and  proceed  to  examine  the 
interior  of  the  Palace  with  the  works  of  art  it  contains  here 
rather  than  elsewhere. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Palace  was  burnt  out 
entirely  in  1574  and  1577,  and  all  the  decorations  and  pictures 
which  it  contained  were  then  destroyed.  Venice  could 
scarcely  have  suffered  from  an  artistic  point  of  view  a 
greater  misfortune,  yet  she  more  than  any  other  city  in  Italy 
was  able  in  some  sort  to  repair  her  loss.  What  she  lost 
was  the  beautiful  and  exquisite  work  of  the  masters  of  the 
fourteenth,  fifteenth,  and  early  sixteenth  centuries,  the  work 
of  Gentile  da  Fabriano,  Vittore  Pisano,  Carpaccio,  the 
Bellini,  Cima,  Catena,  Bissolo,  Giorgione,  and  Titian : 
she  was  able  to  substitute  the  work  of  Tintoretto,  Paolo 
Veronese,  and  Palma  Giovane. 

We  enter  the  Palace  by  the  Scala  dei  Giganti,  and  thence 
passing  along  the  loggia  to  the  right,  ascend  the  Scala  d'  Oro, 
built  by  Sansovino  in  1556,  up  which  only  those  might  pass 
whose  names  were  written  in  the  Libro  d'  Oro.  At  the  top 
of  this  glorious  staircase  we  enter  the  Atrio  Quadrato, 
a  great  antechamber  hung  with  portraits  of  Doges  by  Tin- 
toretto, while  on  the  ceiling  the  same  artist  has  painted  Doge 
Lorenzo  Priuli    (1559)  receiving   the   sword  from   Justice  in 


THE   DOGE'S   PALACE  77 

the  presence  of  Venice,  above  S.  Mark  is  on  his  throne  in  the 
heavens. 

From  this  antechamber  we  pass  into  the  Sala  delle 
Quattro  Porte,  decorated  by  Palladio  in  1575  and  restored 
in  1869.  This  was  an  inner  antechamber.  In  the  midst  of 
the  entrance  wall  is  a  great  subject-picture  :  a  portrait  of 
Doge  Antonio  Grimani  (1523).  The  Doge  kneels  before 
a  figure  of  Faith  holding  the  Cross  and  the  Chalice.  Beside 
the  Doge  a  page  holds  the  ducal  crown.  To  the  left  S.  Mark, 
personifying  the  city,  seen  in  the  background,  appears  with  his 
lion.  This  work  was  ordered  by  the  Republic  in  1555,  not 
for  the  place  it  now  occupies  but  for  another  apartment.  It 
was  still  unfinished  in  1566,  and  in  that  year  Vasari  saw  it  in 
Titian's  studio.  The  two  figures  at  the  sides  are  the  work  of 
a  pupil.  This  rather  vulgar  painting  is  the  only  one  of  the 
votive  pictures  still  preserved  which  Titian  painted  as  the 
Court  painter.  The  others  were  destroyed  in  the  fires  of 
1574  and  1577. 

Another  pupil  of  Titian's  is  represented  by  a  picture  on  the 
right  of  the  entrance,  where  we  see  Doge  Marino  Grimani 
kneeling  before  the  Virgin,  and  in  the  work  opposite  to  it, 
where  we  see  the  conquest  of  Verona  in  1439.  The  other 
works  in  this  apartment  are  of  little  account ;  yet  we  must 
not  forget  the  ceiling,  originally  by  Tintoretto,  now  ruined  by 
restoration.  There  we  see  Jupiter  giving  to  Venice  the 
command  of  the  sea.  It  must  once  have  been  one  of  the 
glories  of  the  world. 

From  this  Sala  delle  Quattro  Porte  we  enter  the  Ante- 
collegio,  the  waiting-room  for  ambassadors  seeking  an 
audience.  It  is,  I  suppose,  the  most  gloriously  decorated 
room  in  the  world.  Certainly  now  nothing  that  remains  of 
the  Palace  may  bear  comparison  with  it  for  a  moment. 
Here,  better  perhaps  than  anywhere  else,  we  may  under- 
stand what  the  pride  and  far-flung  greatness  of  Venice  were, 
the  splendour  of  her  achievement,  the  glory  of  her  name. 

It  has  been  said  by  the  most  profound  historian  of  our 
day,  that  what  in  fact  differentiates  us  from  the  beasts  is  not 


78  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

the  discovery  or  invention  of  fire,  but  the  creation  of  the 
figure  of  Prometheus.  If  that  be  so  we  may  well  claim  that 
all  the  victories  of  Venice  are  as  nothing  in  comparison  with 
the  achievement  we  see  within  the  four  walls  of  this  not 
very  large  room.  It  is  the  myth  of  Venice  that  is  here 
expressed.  The  whole  room  is  a  masterpiece  by  Tintoretto 
and  Veronese.  On  our  left  as  we  enter  we  see  Mercury  with 
the  Graces — Venice,  the  city  of  great  merchants  with  the 
Graces  which  enhance  the  enjoyment  of  life  by  refinement 
and  gentilezza :  commerce  and  civilization  in  their  most 
splendid  form  represented  by  the  cunning  and  virile  god  and 
the  lovely  nude  maidens  full  of  the  promise  of  joy.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  entrance  door  we  see  the  Forge  of  Vulcan 
and  the  fiery  energy  of  Venice,  the  strength  of  the  bright 
steel  of  her  battle  forged  in  the  fire  and  smoke  of  her 
workshops.     The  two  by  Tintoretto. 

Passing  a  dark  picture  of  Jacob  and  Laban  by  Leandro 
Bassano,  we  come  to  that  splendour  of  Paolo  Veronese,  the 
Rape  of  Europa.  Nothing,  I  suppose,  can  be  conceived  more 
rich,  more  sumptuous,  more  golden,  or  more  sad  in  its 
luxuriance  than  this  glorious  work,  which  recalls  to  us  the 
infamous  League  of  Cambrai,  the  most  unforgivable 
political  act  of  which  the  Papacy  was  ever  guilty;  and  yet 
for  our  consolation  it  recalls  too  the  origins  of  Venice  and  is 
therefore  surrounded  by  a  halo  of  joy.  It  alone  would  be 
enough  to  exalt  any  palace  in  the  world  above  its  fellows;  yet 
here  it  is  but  one  amid  a  crowd  of  works  which  fill  this 
crowded  room  with  such-a  dazzle  of  light  that  we  may  scarcely 
enter  it  without  embarrassment.  For  close  by  there  shines 
another  miracle  by  Tintoretto,  the  Minerva  repelling  Mars, 
counsel  that  is  thrusting  back  cruel  barbarian  war ;  and  over 
against  it  stands  the  loveliest  of  all  the  treasures  of  the 
city — Tintoretto's  Bacchus  and  Ariadne — Ariadne,  deserted 
by  Theseus,  discovered  in  Naxos  by  vine-clad  Bacchus  crowned 
by  Venus.  What  else  is  this  than  the  crowning  of  Venice 
lost  on  her  islands  as  Queen  of  the  Sea  ?  "  Seated  on  the 
shore  like  a  deity,  Venice  receives  the  ring  from  the  young 


»  .111)  » 

1  >        >•'.>         >  ft 


»      » • 1      >        1  '•"       • 


■>    '         >       >  J   J 


THE  DOGE'S  PALACE  79 

vine-crowned  god  who  has  descended  into  the  water,  while 
Beauty  soars  on  her  wings  with  the  diadem  of  stars  to  crown 
the  wonderful  alliance."  "  Look!"  says  D'  Annunzio  again  ; 
"  Look  at  the  distant  ship  !  it  seems  to  bring  some  announce- 
ment. Look  at  the  body  of  the  symbolic  woman  !  both  seem 
capable  of  bearing  the  germs  of  a  world." 

From  the  Antecollegio  we  enter  the  Sala  del  Collegio, 
where  the  Doge,  seated  on  his  throne  surrounded  by  his 
Council,  received  the  ambassadors.  The  glory  of  this  room  is 
its  ceiling  by  Paolo  Veronese ;  it  is,  of  course,  the  finest  in 
Venice,  and,  I  suppose,  in  the  world.  There  we  see  Venice 
enthroned  on  the  world  with  Justice  and  Peace.  In  the 
midst  is  Faith  with  other  virtues  and  Neptune  and  Mars. 
But  the  room  is  not  only  glorious  in  its  roof.  Over  the 
entrance  Tintoretto  has  painted  a  votive  picture  with  a  portrait 
of  Doge  Andrea  Gritti  (1538)  before  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
towards  whom  S.  Mark  directs  his  gaze.  On  the  right  stand 
S.  Bernardino  of  Siena  and  S.  Louis  of  Toulouse,  for  the 
Doge  was  a  Franciscan,  and  in  the  midst  appears  a  young 
martyr  with  the  branch  of  palm  presenting  a  child  to  the 
Virgin.  Close  by,  on  the  left,  is  another  votive  picture  by  the 
same  great  master,  with  a  portrait  of  Doge  Francesco  Donato 
(1545)  before  S.  Mark.  On  the  left  is  the  Marriage  of 
S.  Catherine  of  Alexandria  and  under  is  S.  Francis.  Thus 
the  Doge  kneels  to  the  patron  of  Venice,  S.  Mark  :  to  the  Star 
of  the  Sea,  the  Blessed  Virgin  ;  to  the  patron  of  the  over-sea 
dominions  of  the  city,  S.  Catherine  of  Alexandria ;  and  to  his 
own  patron,  S.  Francis,  whose  name  he  bears.  Another  votive 
picture  by  Tintor2tto  occupies  the  middle  of  the  wall.  There 
Doge  Nicolo  da  Ponte  (1578),  presented  by  S.  Mark,  kneels 
to  the  Madonna.  Beside  him  stands  his  patron,  S.  Nicholas, 
whilst  about  the  Madonna  stand  S.  Antony  and  S.  Joseph. 
In  the  background  is  the  city.  Next  to  this  masterpiece  is 
another  work  by  the  same  painter,  where  Doge  Alvise  Mocenigo 
(1570),  presented  by  S.  Mark,  kneels  to  Our  Lord  in  glory. 
On  the  right  kneel  the  Doge's  two  brothers,  Nicolb  and 
Andrea  with  their    patrons.      Behind   the    Doge    stand   S. 


80  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

Louis  of  Toulouse,  his  patron,  and  S.  John  the  Baptist. 
The  background  shows  us  the  Libreria  Vecchia  and  the 
Campanile.  Over  the  throne  Paolo  Veronese  has  painted  a 
picture  commemorating  the  battle  of  Lepanto,  where  Doge 
Sebastiano  Venier  (1577)  is  presented  by  S.  Mark  kneeling 
to  the  Saviour  rendering  thanks  for  that  victory  at  which 
he  was  present.  Beside  S.  Mark  stands  the  patron  of  the  battle, 
S.  Justina  of  Padua ;  behind  her  stands  S.  Catherine  with  the 
ducal  crown.  To  the  left  is  Faith  with  the  chalice,  and 
behind  her  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  battle.  The  Doge  is 
supported  by  the  hero  of  the  fight,  Agostino  Barbarigo,  who 
holds  the  banner  of  S.  George. 

From  the  Sala  del  Collegio  we  pass  into  the  Sala  del 
Senato,  which  is  for  the  most  part  decorated  by  Palma 
Giovane.  In  the  Senate  Hall  the  throne  of  the  Doge  and 
the  stalls  of  the  senators  and  the  procurators  occupy  still 
their  old  place.  Above  are  the  portraits  of  two  Doges, 
Marc  Antonio  Trevisano  and  Pietro  Lando  (1553,  1545),  by 
Tintoretto.  In  the  midst  is  a  very  beautiful  representation  of  the 
Dead  Christ  supported  by  angels.  On  the  wall  opposite,  at 
the  end  of  the  room,  we  see  the  Doges  Girolamo  and  Lorenzo 
Priuli  (1559,  1567),  kneeling,  attended  by  S.  Jerome  and  S. 
Lorenzo,  before  Christ,  who  appears  in  the  clouds  with  the 
Blessed  Virgin  and  S.  Mark.  This  by  Palma  Giovane.  Close 
by  on  the  window  wall  is  a  portrait  of  the  first  Patriarch  of 
Venice,  S.  Lorenzo  Giustiniano,  painted  by  Marco  Vecelli. 
Opposite  is  a  votive  picture  of  Doge  Pietro  Loredan  (1567),  by 
Tintoretto.  Over  the  door  is  another  work  by  Palma  Giovane 
representing  in  symbol  the  League  of  Cambrai,  the  Doge 
Lorenzo  Loredan  (1520)  crowned  by  angels.  Beside  this  is 
a  portrait  of  Doge  Pasquale  Cicogna  (1592)  and  a  portrait  of 
Doge  Francesco  Venier  (1577)  by  the  same  artist.  In  the 
midst  of  the  ceiling  is  a  picture  by  Tintoretto  of  Venice 
enthroned  as  Queen  of  the  Adriatic,  full  of  pride  and 
glory. 

From  the  Sala  del  Senato  to  the  right  of  the  throne  we 
enter  the  vestibule  of  the  chapel  and  the  chapel  of  the  Doges. 


THE  DOGE'S  PALACE  81 

In  the  vestibule  are  two  works  by  Tintoretto  of  S.  Jerome  and 
S.  Andrew  and  S.  Louis,  S.  Margaret,  and  S.  George.  In  the 
chapel  itself  the  only  thing  that  calls  for  our  attention  is  the 
statue  of  the  Madonna  by  Sansovino,  a  lovely  and  even  a 
moving  piece  of  work. 

Hence  we  return  to  the  Sala  delle  Quattro  Porte  through 
the  great  doors  of  the  Sala  del  Senato,  and  passing  thence 
through  an  anteroom  enter  the  Sala  del  Consiglio  dei  Dieci, 
the  Hall  of  the  Council  of  Ten.  For  all  the  terrible  fame 
of  that  assembly,  their  Hall  is  neither  very  noble  in  form 
nor  very  splendid  in  its  decorations.  Only  in  the  ceiling 
paintings  we  find  a  remnant  of  the  work  of  Paolo  Veronese 
destroyed  in  the  fire  of  1577.  This  fragment  shows  us  an  old 
man  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand. 

From  the  Hall  of  the  Council  of  Ten  we  pass  into  the  ante- 
chamber of  the  Hall  of  the  Council  of  Three;  it  contains 
nothing  worthy  of  note,  and  we  enter  at  once  the  room  on 
the  right,  the  Sala  dei  Capi,  the  Hall  of  the  Three.  The 
central  piece  in  the  ceiling  here  is  of  the  school  of  Veronese, 
and  represents  an  angel  driving  away  vice.  To  the  right  is 
a  Madonna  and  Child,  before  whom  kneels  Doge  Leonardo 
Loredan,  by  Catena,  a  fine,  even  a  beautiful  piece  of  work. 
On  the  left  is  a  curious  Giovanni  Bellini,  a  Pieta. 

Returning  hence  to  the  antechamber  and  thence  descend- 
ing the  great  staircase,  the  Scala  dei  Censori,  we  enter,  on  the 
left,  the  largest  and  most  magnificent  hall  in  the  Palace,  the 
Sala  del  Maggior  Consiglio.  Here  those  whose  names  were 
inscribed  in  the  Libro  d'  Oro  met :  it  was  the  Venetian  House 
of  Lords.  On  the  ceiling  Paolo  Veronese,  Tintoretto,  Bassano, 
and  Palma  Giovane  have  painted  the  victories  of  Venice. 
There,  too,  Veronese  has  set  Venice  herself  crowned  by  Fame, 
and  Tintoretto  has  painted  Doge  Niccolb  da  Ponte  (1585) 
presenting  the  conquered  cities  to  Venice.  The  frieze  round 
the  room  consists  of  the  portraits  of  seventy-six  Doges,  begin- 
ning with  Obelerio  (810),  the  ninth  Doge  of  the  Venetian 
confederation  and  the  first  of  Venice ;  while  on  the  eastern 
wall,  over-the  dais  and  the  Doge's  throne,  hangs   the  vast 

G 


82  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

painting  in  oils  which  Tintoretto  made  to  take  the  place 
of  Guariento's  fresco  which  still  in  part  remains  behind  the 
canvas,  but  which  was  utterly  ruined  in  the  fire.  I  confess 
at  once  that  while  in  the  Antecollegio  Tintoretto  seems  to  me 
one  of  the  great  painters  in  the  world,  a  true  poet  and  creator 
of  beauty,  here  I  am  altogether  at  a  loss.  The  vast  canvas, 
almost  black  and  altogether  without  order  or  arrangement  in 
its  composition,  means  absolutely  nothing  to  me,  it  moves  me 
not  at  all,  I  get  from  it  no  pleasure,  nor  do  I  understand  it. 
It  is  to  me  like  some  vast,  deep  seascape  where  a  life  half 
human,  half  daemonic  might  pass  before  our  eyes,  swimming 
hither  and  thither,  eternally  restless,  eternally  in  confusion, 
intent  on  no  business,  going  nowhither,  only  continually 
changing  in  the  murky  light  as  the  figures  change  and  mean 
nothing  in  a  kaleidoscope.  For  others  this  picture  may  be, 
as  I  gather  it  was  for  Ruskin,  a  profound  revelation  of  beauty 
and  joy.  Me  it  cannot  affect.  I  am,  let  me  confess  it,  merely 
confused  and  tired  by  its  dim  ocean  of  figures  that  seem 
to  pass  and  repass  making  wild  gesticulations — of  joy  or  of 
sorrow  is  it  ? — I  know  not  why,  and  if  this  be  Heaven  I  had 
looked  for  a  happier  place  and  one  full  of  light.  Who  for  a 
moment  would  exchange  this  our  dear  world  for  that  far  ocean 
of  murky  gloom?  Let  us  go  to  the  great  window  and  standing 
there  look  at  the  sunlight  lying  on  the  city,  the  dancing  waves 
of  the  lagoon,  the  happy  morning  joyful  along  the  Schiavone, 
the  shady  trees  of  the  gardens,  the  adventurous  Fortuna,  the 
cold,  magnificent  Salute,  the  joy  of  S.  Giorgio  of  the  rosy  tower, 
the  life  of  the  ships  at  the  Zattere  quays,  the  ways  of  the  little 
people  in  the  Piazzetta.  Is  not  this  a  heaven  of  heavens  in 
comparison  with  that  solemn  black  chaos  within  doors? — 
that  pretentious  and  prideful  study  in  anatomy  and  movement 
that  has  no  thought  at  all  of  anything  in  the  world  or  above  it 
save  the  wonderful  capacity  as  an  artist  of  Messer  Jacopo 
Tintoretto?  Yet  he  is  but  typical  of  them  all.  After  the 
Bellini  Venice  never  possessed  a  religious  painter.  Not  one 
of  them  all,  even  the  greatest,  Titian,  Tintoretto,  Veronese, 
is  anything  but  a  mediocrity  beside  Angelico,  or  Gentile  da 


THE   DOGE'S   PALACE  83 

Fabriano,  or  Sassetta,  or  half  a  dozen  Sienese  I  could  name. 
Infinitely  greater  than  any  of  these  as  painters  pure  and 
simple  they  doubtless  were,  but  they  have  lost  the  sense  of 
religion,  something  divine,  something  without  which  all 
is  very  little  more  than  nothing,  and  leads  only  to  weariness. 
Consider  the  religious  paintings  of  these  men :  the  Assumption 
in  the  Academy,  the  vast,  dim,  terrible  work  in  the  Scuola  di 
S.  Rocco,  the  huge  Supper  in  the  House  of  Simon  in  the  Louvre 
— do  they^mean  anything  to  any  living  soul  as  religious  pictures  ? 
Does  one  even  remember  before  them  that  one  is  looking 
at  something  religious,  something  supernatural  and  divine? 
I  am  only  aware  in  their  presence  of  the  genius  of  Titian, 
of  the  passionate  eagerness  and  tragic  strength  of  Tintoretto, 
of  the  splendour  and  luxuriance  and  wealth  of  Veronese's 
art :  I  forget  God,  I  forget  the  origins  of  my  soul,  I  forget 
that  I  have  ever  wept  in  humility  or  desired  quietness  or 
called  for  aid.  I  remember  only  the  tireless  energy  of  man, 
his  unbreakable  pride,  and  endless  achievement :  I  forget 
Bethlehem  and  remember  Rome.  And  this  is  what  they, 
often  unconscious  of  their  intention,  finally  mean.  They 
are  of  the  high  Renaissance :  something  divine  has  vanished 
from  the  world;  God  has  withdrawn  Himself,  and  there  is 
left  only  man  to  worship  the  work  of  his  own  hands.  In  a 
sense,  too,  that  is  to  be  only  too  obvious  later,  it  is  the  most 
appalling  victory  of  all,  the  victory  of  science  over  poetry, 
which  in  its  own  way  has  destroyed  every  civilization  that 
we  have  ever  contrived.  Not  so  thought  the  Venetians. 
Round  this  their  vast  council  chamber  in  the  pride  of  their 
lives  they  painted  only  their  victories ;  they  forgot  their  defeats, 
they  forgot  they  were  men.  On  the  right  wall  they  remind 
themselves  that  they  had  humbled  an  emperor,  on  the  left  that 
before  them  had  fallen  Byzantium,  the  second  Rome.  And 
not  to  God  but  to  Venice  they  give  glory — to  Venice,  Queen 
of  the  Sea,  already  tottering  to  that  fall  which  pride  foregoeth. 


IV 
PIAZZA  DI   S.   MARCO 

WE  have  considered  the  Church  of  S.  Mark  as  the  type 
and  the  flower  of  Byzantine  Venice ;  we  have  taken 
the  Palace  of  the  Doge  as  the  perfect  symbol  of  the  Gothic 
city;  we  shall  now  turn  to  the  great  Piazza,  which  in  its 
various  parts  contains  them  both,  as  the  type  and  indeed 
the  sum  of  the  Venice  of  the  Renaissance.  That  it  is,  and 
something  more.  For  though,  as  we  have  it  to-day,  it  may  be 
said,  and  truly,  to  be  of  the  Renaissance,  we  must  not  forget 
that  it  was  always,  even  in  the  earliest  times,  even  in  the 
Byzantine  city,  the  heart  and  centre  of  Venice,  and  that  it 
remains  so  still  even  in  our  day,  when  Venice  has  shrunk 
once  more,  it  might  seem,  to  this  group  of  buildings  on  the 
Rivo  Alto. 

The  Piazza  di  S.  Marco,  in  fact,  is  not  merely  the  centre  of 
modern  or  of  mediaeval  Venice ;  in  many  ways  it  is  Venice 
herself.  It  not  only  contains  the  most  famous  and  the  most 
splendid  buildings  of  the  city — the  Church,  the  Palace,  the 
Government  offices,  the  Library,  the  Bell  Tower,  and  the  Clock 
Tower  of  Venice — but  it  is  the  universal  meeting-place  and 
the  principal  gateway  of  the  calli^  the  canals,  the  lagoons,  and 
the  sea.  All  that  is  meant  by  the  word  Venezia  is  in  truth 
there  summed  up  and  expressed. 

These  considerations  would  lead  us  to  regard  it,  even 
though  we  did  not  know  it,  as  the  most  famous  Piazza  in 
Italy  and  in  the  world;  the  most  famous  and  perhaps 
the  most  beautiful.     Not  one  of  the  spacious  Piazzas  /  we 

84 


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>     '       "•      15      "J 


■■        ■     ,            ,          ,                                L    

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1 

THE    PIAZZETTA,    VENICE 


PIAZZA  DI  S.   MARCO  85 

know  so  well  in  Rome,  in  Florence,  in  Siena,  in  Milan,  or 
in  Naples  can  be  compared  with  it  either  for  renown  or  for 
beauty ;  and  as  we  tell  over  their  names  we  have  to  admit 
that,  after  all,  they  are  of  no  importance  beside  the  Piazza  of 
S.  Mark.  Even  in  Rome,  where  it  would  seem  we  might 
surely  expect  to  find  something  at  least  to  compare  with  it, 
there  is,  in  fact,  nothing ;  for  the  Piazza  di  S.  Pietro  is  a  mere 
vestibule  to  S.  Peter's  Church,  and  has  very  little  to  do  with 
the  life  of  the  city ;  the  Piazza  Venezia  is  only  a  cul  de  sac> 
and  moreover  a  ruin,  while  the  Piazza  Colonna  is  just  a  gap 
in  the  Corso,  the  Piazza  di  Spagna  a  wilderness  of  strangers. 
There  is  no  Piazza  in  Rome  which  may  be  said  to  be  the 
centre  of  the  city,  or,  to  sum  it  up  and  in  fact  to  stand  as  a 
symbol  for  it  in  the  imagination  of  mankind,  as  the  Piazza  of 
S.  Mark  does  even  to-day  sum  up  and  symbolize  Venice. 

The  beautiful  Piazza,  thus  so  famous,  may  be  said  to  consist 
of  four  parts — the  Piazza  proper,  the  Piazzetta,  the  Molo,  or 
quay,  and  the  Piazzetta  dei  Leoni.  Let  us  take  them  in 
order. 

Of  all  the  many  ways  of  approaching  the  great  Piazza, 
that  is  surely  the  commonest  which  brings  the  traveller 
through  more  than  one  quiet  and  half-deserted  campo — the 
Campo  di  S.  Maria  Zobenigo  and  the  Campo  di  S.  Moise, 
for  instance — past  the  fantastic  facade  of  the  latter  church  into 
the  dark  and  narrow  street  that  suddenly  leaves  him  amid  a 
group  of  heavy  columns  under  a  splendid  arcade,  whence 
before  him  stretches  far  away  the  great  Piazza  in  all  its 
beauty  of  order  and  light,  to  the  great  admiration  of  all 
who  have  ever  beheld  it.  Before  him,  but  still  a  long  way 
off,  across  that  great  and  beautiful  square,  rises  the  Cathedral 
of  S.  Mark,  with  its  many  domes  and  gilded  balls  and  crosses, 
its  facade  precious  with  mosaics,  splendid  with  gold,  sumptuous 
with  various  marbles,  which  changes  so  exquisitely  with  every 
mood  of  the  day,  and  before  it  the  great  flagstaffs,  where  on  a 
Sunday  float  the  tricolour  standards  of  Italy  that  have  dis- 
placed the  crimson  banners  of  S.  Mark.  To  the  right,  before 
the  church,  soars  the  Campanile  once  more,  in  all  its  sober 


86  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

majesty,  hiding,  as  it  was  meant  to  do,  the  Piazzetta  and  the 
western  facade  of  the  Palace,  and  to  the  left  of  the  church 
opens  the  Piazzetta  dei  Leoni,  where  stands  the  Episcopal 
Palace,  and  further  still  to  the  left  rises  the  fantastic  clock- 
tower  under  which  runs  the  principal  street  of  Venice.  Such 
is  the  noble  spectacle  before  us  j  but  what  of  the  Piazza  itself? 

The  northern  (left)  side  of  the  great  square  is  formed  by 
the  long  and  beautiful  line  of  buildings,  the  Procuratie 
Vecchie,  which  formed  the  official  residence  of  the  Procurators 
of  S.  Mark,  the  chief  officers  of  the  Republic.  The  lower  part 
of  this  building  with  its  open  arcade  was  built  by  Pietro  Lom- 
bardo  in  1496,  the  upper  by  Bartolommeo  Buon  the  younger 
in  1519,  while  the  whole  is  closed  towards  the  Piazzetta  dei 
Leoni  by  the  clock-tower  which  Rizzo  of  Verona  built  in 
1496.  The  southern  (right)  side  of  the  Piazza  is  formed  by 
the  Procuratie  Nuove,  built  in  1584  by  Scamozzi  as  further 
offices  for  the  Procurators.  This  building,  too,  is  arcaded 
towards  the  Piazza  and  now  forms  with  its  various  parts  on 
the  Grand  Canal  the  Palace  of  the  King  of  Italy  in  Venice, 
after  having  served  a  like  purpose  for  the  Emperor  of  Austria. 

The  western  end  of  the  Piazza,  facing  the  church,  is  a  much 
later  addition  to  the  square.  It  is  called  the  Nuova  Fabbrica, 
and  was  built  in  18 10  by  Napoleon  as  additional  offices  and 
to  connect  the  Procuratie  Vecchie  and  Nuove. 

This  work  of  Napoleon  brings  us  straight  to  realize  the  fact 
that  the  Piazza  of  S.  Marco  by  no  means  always  appeared  as 
we  now  see  it.  It  is  obvious  that  even  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, much  more  in  the  fifteenth,  it  was  very  different  from 
what  it  appears  to-day ;  and,  indeed,  it  differed  very  greatly. 

The  island  on  which  the  Piazza  is  built  was  in  the  earliest 
time,  long  before  the  Venetian  Confederation  founded  itself 
on  the  Rivo  Alto,  known  as  Morso — that  is  to  say,  lasting  or 
tenacious,  probably  on  account  of  its  stability  in  contrast  with 
the  other  mud  flats  of  the  lagoon.  It  was  early  divided  by  a 
channel  or  canal  called  Batario,  crossed  by  a  bridge  called  the 
Malpassi)  beside  which  stood  as  early  as  564  a  church  dedi- 
cated to  S.  Teodoro,  which  nearly  three  hundred  years  later 


PIAZZA  DI  S.   MARCO  87 

was  either  supplanted  by  or  incorporated  in  the  Church  of 
S.  Mark.  On  the  other  side  of  the  Batario  stood  the  Church 
of  S.  Gemignano,  dating  from  about  the  same  time.  The 
open  space,  or  Piazza,  in  which,  divided  by  the  Batario,  these 
churches  stood,  was  then  little  more  than  a  clearing  about 
half  the  size  of  the  present  Piazza  j  it  was  covered  with  grass 
and  surrounded,  or  at  any  rate  largely  shaded,  by  trees,  and 
for  this  reason  was  called  Brolo  (the  Park).  Early  in  the 
tenth  century  this  park  was  protected  and  closed  by  Doge 
Pietro  Tribuno  (912)  against  the  pirates  by  a  fortified  wall 
which  ran  from  the  present  Campo  di  S.  Maria  Zobenigo  to 
the  Riva  degli  Schiavoni  on  the  sea  side  of  the  Piazza.  It  was 
not  till  two  hundred  years  later  that  the  Piazza  was  enlarged 
practically  to  its  present  size,  the  Batario  filled  in,  and  the 
Church  of  S.  Gemignano  pulled  down  and  rebuilt  where  the 
Nuova  Fabbrica  now  stands.  Before  1173  the  great  place  was 
enclosed  completely  by  a  colonnade,  and  in  that  year  the  sea- 
wall was  demolished. 

Nearly  a  hundred  years  later,  in  1264,  the  Piazza  was  paved 
for  the  first  time — with  tiles.  By  1382  it  was  found  that  the 
water  in  the  main  channel  had  risen,  and  the  Piazza  was 
much  subject  to  flood.  In  that  year  it  was  raised  and 
repaved,  as  it  was  again  in  1590.  This  work  of  raising  and 
building  up  the  Piazza  was  again  repeated  in  1722,  when  it 
was  first  paved  with  stone,  and  thus  under  these  continual 
heightenings  the  steps  that  led  originally  up  from  the  Piazza 
to  the  doors  of  S.  Mark's  disappeared,  so  that  to-day  it  is 
actually  necessary  to  step  down  from  the  Piazza  into  the 
church,  and  this  although  the  whole  pavement  of  the  square 
is  sloped  from  the  Nuova  Fabbrica  down  to  the  great  facade. 
It  will  be  noticed  too  that  the  shape  of  the  Piazza  is  not 
rectangular,  but  that  it  is  narrower  at  the  Nuova  Fabbrica 
than  at  the  facade  of  the  church.  In  this  it  is  like  all  the 
Venetian  palaces,  which  are  broader  on  their  canal  front  than 
on  the  side  in  the  street,  and  this  is,  no  doubt,  a  contrivance 
for  the  sake  of  light  and  beauty. 

As  late  as  the  fifteenth  century  trees  remained  in  the  Piazza, 


88  VENICE  AND   VENETIA 

and  their  roots  were  found  as  well  as  the  remains  of  three 
former  pavements  in  the  excavations  for  the  foundations  of 
the  new  Campanile  in  1903.  At  the  end  of  the  quattrocento, 
as  we  may  see  in  Bellini's  picture  of  the  Procession  in  the 
Piazza,  now  in  the  Academy,  the  hospital  of  Doge  Pietro 
Orseolo  was  then  standing.  It  adjoined  the  Campanile,  and 
seems  with  other  buildings  to  have  connected  it  to  the  arcade 
on  the  southern  side  of  the  Piazza.  These  other  buildings 
were  certainly  offices  of  the  Procuratori,  and  since  they 
spoiled  the  appearance  of  the  square  they  were  pulled  down 
with  the  hospital  in  1582,1  the  latter  being  removed  to  the 
Campo  S.  Gallo.  There  the  Procuratie  Nuove,  as  has  been 
said,  were  built,  but  further  back.  The  Campanile  was  in 
this  new  building  left  isolated.  It  seems  to  have  been  about 
this  time  that  shops  began  to  appear  in  the  Piazza  under  the 
older  arcade ;  they  now,  as  every  traveller  knows,  have  usurped 
every  building  in  the  place. 

Nearly  eighty  years  before  the  demolition  of  the  hospital, 
the  old  Church  of  S.  Gemignano  was  pulled  down,  in  1505, 
and  rebuilt,  only  to  be  pulled  down  again  by  Napoleon  in 
1807,  when  the  Nuova  Fabbrica  was  erected. 

Let  us  now  consider  the  buildings  and  so  forth  in  the 
Piazza,  and  first  the  three  flagstaff's.  Up  to  the  time  Bellini 
painted  his  picture  their  pedestals  were  simple  and  in  wood,  but 
almost  immediately  after,  in  1505,  these  were  destroyed,  and 
those  we  now  see  in  bronze,  the  work  of  Alessandro  Leopardi, 
were  substituted.  The  staffs  bore  three  splendid  banners 
representing,  it  is  said,  Venice,  Cyprus,  and  Crete. 

But  the  great  treasure  of  the  Piazza  was  the  famous  Cam- 
panile, which  came  to  so  tragic  an  end  in  July,  1902.  The 
Campanile  seems  always,  even  in  the  earliest  times,  to  have 
stood  where   it  fell.     Tradition  tells  us  that  its  foundations 

1  The  reader  will  find  this,  among  many  other  particulars  of  interest 
concerning  the  Piazza,  in  a  guide  of  handy  form,  published  by  Messrs. 
Methuen  and  written  by  Mr.  H.  A.  Douglas,  "Venice  on  Foot."  I 
recommend  this  work  to  the  traveller.  The  author  knows  Venice  as  few 
have  done. 


PIAZZA   DI  S.  MARCO  89 

were  laid  in  888  in  the  time  of  Doge  Pietro  Tribuno,  but  the 
tower  does  not  seem  to  have  been  really  begun  till  1148. 
From  that  time  onward  it  was  continually  under  repair — not 
apparently  from  any  weakness  in  the  foundation,  but  rather 
from  some  fault  in  the  brick  used.  In  the  year  1329  we  read 
that  the  Campanile  was  "  renewed  at  the  hands  of  an  architect 
called  II  Mantagnana."  In  1400  it  was  burnt  during  the  festa 
of  Doge  Michele  Steno,  and  in  141 7  it  was  struck  by  lightning 
and  the  upper  part,  which  was  of  wood,  was  totally  destroyed. 
It  was  rebuilt  of  stone,  but  was  struck  again  in  1490,  and 
restored  in  15 15,  when  the  golden  angel  was  placed  on  its 
summit  to  guard  it.  Various  misfortunes  befell  it  of  a  minor 
character,  but  on  23  April,  1745,  it  was  again  very  seriously 
damaged  by  lightning.  A  drawing  by  Canaletto,  now  at 
Windsor,  shows  us  how  great  was  the  damage  done,  for  the 
tower  is  there  seen  under  repair.  The  angle  of  the  Cam- 
panile facing  the  clock-tower  of  S.  Mark's  was  ripped  out 
from  top  to  bottom,  and  the  Loggia  of  Sansovino,  of  which 
we  shall  speak  in  a  moment,  was  damaged  by  the  debris. 
This  must  have  shaken  the  whole  structure,  and  probably 
contributed  to  the  tragedy  of  July,  1902. 

That  tragic  day,  when  the  Campanile  rather  subsided  than 
fell,  will  never  be  forgotten  by  any  who  witnessed  it.  The 
whole  of  Venice  seemed  to  be  assembled  in  the  Piazza,  and 
very  many  were  weeping.  Men  wrung  their  hands  in  frantic 
helplessness  while  the  noblest  tower  in  Italy  sank,  as  it 
seemed,  into  the  sea,  weary  with  age.  The  excavations  which 
were  undertaken  previous  to  the  rebuilding,  now  happily  nearly 
completed,  and  the  scientific  examination  of  the  debris  have 
shown  that  it  was  no  insecurity  in  the  foundations  that  brought 
the  Campanile  down,  but  rather  the  great  old  age  of  the 
bricks,  many  of  which  were  little  more  than  dust,  blown 
through  and  through  by  the  sea  wind. 

Happily  the  Campanile  is  now  practically  rebuilt — happily  : 
for  to  think  of  Venice  without  the  Campanile  of  S.  Mark  is  to 
us  all  almost  an  impossibility.  It  was  not  the  Piazza  alone 
that  the  famous   bell-tower  dominated,  but  all  Venice  too, 


90  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

across  whose  silent  ways  that  bell,  sounded  by  the  watchman 
on  the  summit  every  quarter  of  an  hour  by  day  and  night, 
seemed  like  an  assurance  of  safety,  of  our  civilization,  of 
Europe,  and  our  Faith.  For  it  was,  of  course,  first  and  fore- 
most a  belfry,  and  the  great  bells,  that  to  some  extent  doubtless 
contributed  by  their  vast  weight  to  the  fall,  were  the  sweetest 
and  noblest  voices  in  Venice.  That  belfry  that  Buono  made  in 
15 10  was  a  beautiful  open  loggia  of  four  arches  on  each  face, 
which  overlooked  all  Venice  and  the  islands  and  might  be 
seen  from  Asolo ;  for  the  height  of  the  tower  was  very  great, 
323  feet  on  a  base  of  42  square  feet.  And  it  had  even  to  the 
merest  tourist  a  value,  if  only  for  remembrance,  that  after  all 
too  few  things  nowadays  may  claim.  For  four  hundred  years 
and  more  not  one  of  our  countrymen  has  visited  Venice 
without  being  astonished  at  its  beauty.  John  Evelyn,  for 
instance,  writes  thus  in  his  diary,  concerning  his  visit  to  Venice 
in  1645  :— 

"  Having  fed  our  eyes  with  the  noble  prospect  of  the  island 
of  S.  George,  the  galleys,  gondolas,  and  other  vessels  passing 
to  and  fro,  we  walked  under  the  cloisters  on  the  other  side  of 
this  goodly  Piazza,  being  a  most  magnificent  building,  the 
design  of  Sansovino.  .  .  .  After  this  we  climbed  up  the  tower 
of  S.  Mark,  which  we  might  have  done  on  horseback,  as  'tis 
said  one  of  the  French  kings  did,  there  being  no  stairs  or 
steps,  but  returns  that  take  up  an  entire  square  on  the  arches 
40  feet,  broad  enough  for  a  coach.  This  steeple  stands  by 
itself  without  any  church  near  it,  and  is  rather  a  watch-tent  in 
the  corner  of  the  Piazza  ...  on  the  top  is  an  angel  that 
turns  with  the  wind  and  from  hence  is  a  prospect  down  the 
Adriatic  as  far  as  Istria  and  the  Dalmatian  side,  with  the 
surprising  sight  of  this  miraculous  city  lying  in  the  bosom  of 
the  sea  in  the  shape  of  a  lute,  the  numberless  islands  tacked 
together  by  no  fewer  than  450  bridges." 

We  must  not  leave  the  Campanile  without  mentioning  the 
chebba,)  or  cage,  which  was  suspended  from  a  wooden  pole 
thrust  from  one  of  the  windows  half-way  up,  towards  the 
Piazzetta.    Here  delinquent  priests  were  exposed,  and  we  have 


PIAZZA  DI  S.   MARCO  91 

record  of  one  in  the  fifteenth  century  who  had  been  in  the 
cage  for  a  year  and  was  still  alive. 

Beneath  the  Campanile,  on  the  side  facing  the  Palace,  in 
1540  Sansovino  built  a  loggia  where  the  Procuratori  might 
wait  in  the  shade  the  result  of  deliberations  in  the  Senate  or 
the  nobles  amuse  themselves.  It  was  a  beautiful  building,  in 
keeping  with  the  Libreria  Vecchia,  and  it  will  be  rebuilt,  for 
it  was  destroyed  when  the  Campanile  fell,  with  the  old  stones. 

The  Loggia  and  the  Libreria  Vecchia  bring  us  into  the 
Piazzetta.  This  beautiful  square,  opening  out  of  the  Piazza 
at  right  angles  and  going  down  to  the  Molo  and  the  sea,  has 
also  been  raised  and  built  up,  as  the  Piazza  has  been,  and 
this  explains  the  stunted  appearance  of  the  lower  pillars  of 
the  Piazzetta  facade  of  the  Palace.  It  contains  two  major 
treasures — the  columns  of  S.  Theodore  and  S.  Mark  towards 
the  sea,  and  the  Libreria  Vecchia,  which  closes  it  on  the  west. 

The  two  columns  with  their  capitals,  among  the  most 
beautiful  in  the  world,  are  spoil  of  war.  They  were  brought  to 
Venice  by  Doge  Domenico  Michiel  after  the  fall  of  Tyre  under 
the  sword  of  Venice  in  1 1 2  7,  and  were  set  up  here  fifty  years  later 
by  a  certain  Lombard,  Niccolb  Barattiere,  who  as  a  reward  for 
his  skill  in  engineering  claimed  to  keep  a  gaming-table  between 
them.  The  keeping  of  such  tables  was  contrary  to  Venetian  law, 
but  his  request  was  granted,  and  the  monopoly  thus  established 
was  only  destroyed  in  1529.  But  from  the  fourteenth  century 
the  public  executions  were  made  here  :  possibly  to  discourage 
the  gamblers,  though  from  what  we  know  of  such  things 
that  seems  an  unlikely  result.  Upon  the  western  pillar 
is  set  a  statue  of  S.  Theodore  standing  upon  a  crocodile. 
In  his  left  hand  is  an  unsheathed  sword,  on  his  right 
arm  is  a  shield,  and  this,  says  Francesco  Sansovino,  is  a 
symbol  of  the  Republic,  who  "exerts  her  strong  arm  for  defence 
and  not  for  attack."  S.  Theodore,  a  favourite  saint  of  the 
Eastern  Church,  was  a  Syrian  soldier  who  in  his  youth 
suffered  martyrdom  under  Maximinian.  Narses,  who  visited 
the  lagoons  in  553,  built  where  S.  Mark's  now  stands,  as  is  said,  a 
chapel  in  his  honour,  and  thus  made  him  the  earliest  patron  of 


92  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

what  was  afterwards  Venice.  The  Lion  of  S.  Mark  which 
crowns  the  other  capital  is  a  work  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
though  the  wings  are  modern.  The  Book,  in  which  were  of 
old  inscribed  the  words  Pax  tibi  Marce,  was  defaced  in 
Napoleon's  time,  and  some  revolutionary  legend  substituted 
concerning  the  so-called  "  Rights  "  of  man.  And  it  was  said 
that  the  Revolution  had  compelled  even  S.  Mark  to  turn  over 
a  new  leaf.  But  Venice  was  then  dead,  and  Napoleon  was 
able  to  steal  the  Lion  for  the  Invalides.  It  came  back,  with 
Nero's  bronze  horses,  when  England  had  broken  him  at 
Waterloo.  The  pillars  are  the  most  characteristic  of  all 
Venetian  monuments  :  similar  shafts  were  erected  in  all  the 
cities  that  came  under  Venetian  rule. 

Before  1529  the  site  of  the  Libreria  Vecchia  was  filled  with 
inns.  In  that  year  they  were  cleared  away,  and  in  1535 
Sansovino  began  to  build  the  beautiful  Renaissance  Library 
we  see  to-day  with  its  arcade.  Ten  years  later,  however,  a 
good  part  of  it  fell  suddenly,  and  Sansovino  found  himself  in 
prison,  from  which  he  was  rescued  by  the  efforts  of  Pietro 
Aretino.  In  1570,  however,  when  he  died,  the  building  was 
still  incomplete,  and  Scamozzi  was  employed  to  finish  it, 
which  he  succeeded  in  doing  in  1582. 

The  Piazzetta  originally  extended  only  a  few  feet  beyond 
the  two  pillars,  but  in  1285  the  Molo  was  built,  which  now 
extends  from  the  Ponte  della  Paglia  to  the  garden  of  the  Royal 
Palace,  and  the  sea  was  thrust  back.  The  Ponte  della  Paglia 
connects  the  Molo  with  the  Riva  degli  Schiavoni  and  crosses 
the  Rio  del  Palazzo,  and  is  so  called,  it  is  thought,  because 
the  boats  laden  with  straw  moored  there  or  there  held  their 
market.  It  is  a  work,  as  we  see  it,  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
The  great  treasure  of  the  Molo,  however,  is  the  Zecca,  or  Mint, 
which  adjoins  the  Libreria  and  faces  the  sea.  This  beautiful 
Palace  was  built  by  Sansovino  in  1536  on  the  site  of  a  building 
which,  used  for  the  same  purpose,  dated  back  to  938.  Here 
the  gold  ducat  called  the  Zecchino  was  coined  as  far  back  as 
1284.  Only  gold  was  coined  in  this  place,  other  mints  being 
used  where  silver  or  mixed  money  was  coined.     Beyond  the 


PIAZZA  DI  S.   MARCO  93 

Zecca  now  stretch  the  Royal,  once  the  Imperial,  gardens. 
Before  1 340  this  space  was  used  as  a  yard  for  building  galleys, 
and  in  1238,  the  disastrous  year  of  Curzola,  fifteen  were  built 
and  launched  there,  close  by  a  lion's  den  where  twenty  years 
later  two  cubs  were  born.  In  1350  the  site  was  cleared  and 
public  granaries  were  there  erected,  in  which,  or  rather  in 
prisons  erected  for  the  purpose  within,  the  Genoese  prisoners 
after  Chioggia  were  confined.  These  granaries  were  not 
demolished  till  1808,  when  the  gardens  were  made. 

There  remains  but  one  of  the  four  parts  of  Piazza  di  San 
Marco  still  to  examine,  the  Piazzetta  dei  Leoni,  so  called 
from  the  two  lions  in  red  marble  by  Giovanni  Bonazza  which 
Doge  Mocenigo  placed  here  in  1722.  It  was  originally,  I 
fancy,  a  vegetable  market,  and  the  only  thing  notable  in  it  is 
the  great  well  head,  which  is  said  to  cover  the  deepest  well  in 
Venice.  At  the  end  is  the  Palazzo  Patriarchale,  a  building  for 
the  most  part  of  1837,  and  poor  at  that  ;  part  of  it  originally 
belonged  to  the  Doges.  Close  by  is  the  very  old  and  now 
dismantled  Church  of  S.  Basso,  built  in  the  eleventh  century, 
burned  in  the  fire  of  1105,  rebuilt  and  again  burned  in  1661, 
to  be  once  more  rebuilt  and  finally  closed  in  18 10.  It  is  now 
a  sort  of  Opera  for  S.  Mark's,  and  part  makes  a  charming 
antiquity  shop. 


V 
SESTIERE   DI   CASTELLO 

THE  SESTIERI — S.  ZACCARIA — LA  PIEtA — VENETA  MARINA — 
S.  GIUSEPPE  DI  CASTELLO — S.  PAOLO  DI  CASTELLO — THE 
ARSENAL — S.  GIOVANNI  IN  BRAGORA — S.  GIORGIO  DEI 
GRECI — S.  GIORGIO  DEGLI  SCHIAVONI — S.  FRANCESCO 
DELLA   VIGNA — SS.    GIOVANNI    E   PAOLO 

THE  city  of  Venice  has  been  divided  since  the  twelfth 
century  into  six  parts,  sestieri^  three  to  the  north  of 
the  Grand  Canal,  called  Castello,  S.  Marco,  and  Cannaregio, 
and  three  to  the  south,  called  S.  Croce,  S.  Polo,  and 
Dorsoduro.  The  largest  of  these  divisions  which  endure  till 
the  present  day  is  Castello,  which  embraces  all  the  north- 
eastern part  of  the  city.  Of  the  three  southern  divisions 
Dorsoduro  is  now  the  greatest,  for  it  includes  the  island  of 
Giudecca,  but  up  till  127 1  S.  Croce  was  its  rival  in  size,  for 
before  that  year  it  included  the  island  of  Murano. 

Tt  is  very  roughly  to  these  ancient  divisions  that  we  shall 
adhere  in  our  examination  of  the  city  in  the  following 
chapters.  Roughly,  because  it  will  not  always  be  convenient 
to  forgo  passing  from  one  sestiere  to  another  in  search  of  a 
church  that  lies  in  our  way ;  nor  is  the  traveller  well  used  to 
any  such  division  of  the  city,  which  divides  itself  naturally  into 
but  three  parts,  namely,  the  regions  to  the  north  and  south  of 
the  Grand  Canal  and  the  island  of  Giudecca.  No  modern  map 
which  I  have  seen  marks  the  sestieri^  and  though  their  names 

94 


SESTIERE  DI  CASTELLO  95 

are  everywhere  emblazoned  on  the  streets,  they  might  seem 
to  have  rather  a  political  than  a  geographical  significance. 
It  is  convenient  to  the  traveller,  however,  to  examine  the  city 
rather  in  six  walks  than  in  three,  and  for  that  reason  I  have 
roughly  taken  the  sestieri  as  my  guide,  glad  that  in  doing  so 
I  am  following  a  division  so  ancient  and  so  enduring. 

The  Cathedral  of  S.  Mark  and  its  surroundings,  which  we 
have  already  dealt  with,  belong,  of  course,  to  that  sestiere 
known  as  S.  Marco.  Before  dealing  with  the  rest  of  that 
sestiere  we  shall  explore  the  largest  of  all,  the  Sestiere  di 
Castello,  which  includes  all  the  eastern  and  northern  part  of 
Venice  lying  to  the  north  of  the  lagoon  and  the  Grand 
Canal.  Roughly,  this  sestiere  may  be  said  to  be  bounded 
on  the  west  and  south  by  the  Palace  of  the  Doges,  the  Church 
of  S.  Lio,  the  Rio  di  S.  Maria,  and  the  Rio  dei  Mendicanti;1 
on  the  east  and  north  by  the  sea  and  the  lagoons.  It  is  most 
easily  and  obviously  entered  by  the  Riva  degli  Schiavoni,  but 
for  our  purpose  we  prefer  to  start  from  the  Piazza. 

From  the  Piazza,  then,  we  proceed  at  once  into  the 
Piazzetta  dei  Leoni,  and  passing  round  the  Palazzo 
Patriarchale  we  see  opposite  the  Palazzo  Trevisani  or  Bianca 
Capello,  built  by  pupils  of  the  Lombardi  in  1500  and  pur- 
chased from  the  Trevisani  in  1577  by  Bianca  Capello  for  her 
brother.  The  famous  Venetian  beauty,  who  became  Grand 
Duchess  of  Tuscany,  however,  never  lived  here  herself. 
Crossing  the  bridge  to  the  right,  which  affords  us  a  fine  view 
of  the  Rio  facade  of  the  Ducal  Palace  and  the  Bridge  of  Sighs, 
we  enter  the  narrow  ways,  cross  the  Campo  di  Santi  Filippo 
e  Giacomo,  and  crossing  another  canal  enter  the  Campo  di 
S.  Provolo,  and  thence  straight  forward  come  to  the  Campo 
di  S.  Zaccaria,  over  the  gateway  of  which  is  a  fine  relief, 
possibly  by  Massegne,  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  between 
S.  John  Baptist  and  S.  Mark.  Here  by  this  gateway  Doge 
Pietro  Tradonico  was  assassinated  when  returning  from  Vespers 
on  13  September,  864.  That  visit,  which  ended  so  disastrously, 
was  the  first  made  by  the  Doge  in  recognition,  it  is  said,  of 
1  See  end-paper  map. 


96  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

hospitality  extended  by  the  nuns,  for  the  church  was  attached 
to  a  convent,  to  Pope  Benedict  II  in  855,  who  had  taken 
refuge  there  from  the  Antipope  Anastasius.  On  the  occasion 
of  Doge  Pietro  Tradonico's  visit  the  nuns  presented  him  with 
a  cap,  with  which  all  the  Doges  thereafter  were  crowned. 
This  cap  was  carried  in  procession  when  on  13  Septem- 
ber in  each  year  the  Doge  visited  the  church  ;  but  after 
1 172  the  date  was  changed  and  the  procession  was  made  on 
Easter  Day.  This  continued  to  be  the  custom  till  1797.  The 
old  convent,  founded  in  809,  lay  to  the  right  of  the  church ; 
the  later  building  near  the  Campanile  is  now  a  barracks. 

The  church  itself  is  said  to  have  been  founded  in  the 
seventh  century  by  S.  Magno.  However  that  may  be,  the 
Benedictine  convent,  as  we  have  seen,  dates  from  the  ninth 
century,  when  Doge  Angelo  Particiaco  placed  in  the  church 
which  he  had  restored  a  piece  of  the  True  Cross  and  the  body 
of  S.  Zaccaria,  which  had  been  sent  him  by  the  Emperor  of 
Constantinople.  The  present  church,  with  its  beautiful 
facade,  dates  from  the  fifteenth  century,  and  is  a  spacious 
though  rather  gloomy  building.  Eight  Doges  lie  therein,  but 
its  great  treasure  is  the  famous  altarpiece  by  Giovanni  Bellini 
of  the  Madonna  and  Child  enthroned  with  four  saints.  It  is 
one  of  the  finest  of  his  works.  Completed  in  1505,  it  is  in 
that  new  manner  which  came  to  Bellini  in  his  age  as  a  new 
vision  of  the  world,  caught  perhaps  from  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
young  disciples,  who  were  to  revolutionize  painting.  Our 
Lady  and  the  Holy  Child  are  still  enthroned  in  that  niche 
with  which  we  are  so  familiar,  but  there  is  something  new 
in  the  picture  which  assures  us,  as  it  did  Vasari,  that  it  is  a 
work  in  the  M  modern  "  manner.  Perhaps  we  find  it  in  the 
figure  of  S.  Lucia,  who  stands  on  the  right  of  the  throne,  her 
fair  hair  lying  all  gold  across  her  shoulders,  the  lighted  lamp 
in  her  hand,  the  curved  palm  branch,  too,  the  sign  of  her 
martyrdom.  Beside  her  is  S.  Jerome,  his  Bible  open  before  him, 
the  father  of  monasticism.  To  the  left  stand  S.  Catherine 
of  Alexandria  and  S.  Peter.  Nor  is  this  all,  for  in  the  Cappella 
di  Tarasio,  to  the  right  of  the  nuns'  choir,  are  some  old 


?    i >    '     ►  «• 


MADONNA    ENTHRONED    WITH    SAINTS 

GIOVANNI    BELLINI 
/S.  Zaccaria) 


SESTIERE   DI  CASTELLO  97 

Venetian  paintings  by  Antonio  Vivarini,  very  bright  and 
lovely  things.  In  the  nuns'  choir  itself,  with  fine  inlaid  stalls 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  is  a  Madonna  and  Child  with  saints, 
possibly  by  Lorenzo  Lotto. 

From  the  Campo  di  S.  Zaccaria  we  proceed  due  south  to 
the  Riva  degli  Schiavoni,  the  quay  of  the  Dalmatians.  Here 
in  old  days  there  were,  as  to-day,  many  inns.  As  we  see  it, 
however,  the  Riva  is  not  very  old,  since  it  only  got  its  present 
breadth  in  1780.  Before  that  it  was  a  narrow  quay,  paved 
in  1324,  but  it  had  always  had,  I  suppose,  its  beautiful  curved 
shape,  in  which  half  the  loveliness  of  Venice  is  surely  hid.1 

We  pass  along  the  Riva,  so  picturesque  in  the  sunshine, 
with  its  many  boats  and  coloured  sails  and  smell  of  ships,  till 
we  come  to  the  Church  of  La  Pieta.  Here  is  a  fine  work  by 
Moretto,  behind  the  High  Altar,  of  Christ  in  the  house  of  Simon. 
It  is  not  a  religious  picture,  but  it  has  its  own  nobility  and 
beauty  and  helps  to  explain  much  in  the  later  work  of  Paolo 
Veronese.  It  was  not  painted  for  this  church,  or  indeed  for 
any  church,  but  for  the  refectory  of  S.  Fermo  at  Monselice. 

So  we  pass  on,  crossing  the  Rio  dell'  Arsenale,  into  quite 
another  Venice  than  any  we  have  yet  seen,  poorer,  dirtier,  more 
ragged,  and  yet  how  full  of  the  sun,  how  fulfilled  with  the  sea  ! 
We  pass  the  Church  of  S.  Biagio,  built  in  1052  and  rebuilt  in 
1754,  and  so  at  last  to  the  end  of  the  Riva,  which  here  ends 
suddenly  in  the  Via  Garibaldi,  a  street  of  poor  houses  in  the 
Veneta  Marina,  built  in  1807  by  filling  up  a  canal.  Here 
is  the  Church  of  S.  Francesco  da  Paola,  a  sixteenth-century 
building  which  was  attached  to  a  convent,  suppressed  in 
1806,  which  had  in  its  time  replaced  a  hospital  for  the  infirm. 
Opposite  S.  Francesco  da  Paola  is  the  monument  to  Garibaldi 
and  the  shady  park  which  brings  us  at  last  into  the  Giardini 
Pubblici,  which  were  laid  out  by  order  of  Napoleon  in  1807. 
More  than  one  church  and  convent  were  destroyed  to  make 
1  I  describe  the  way  to  S.  Pietro  di  Castello  on  foot  along  the  Riva,  but 
it  is  a  long  and  tiring  walk,  and  there  is  not  much  to  be  had  in  the  way  of 
pictures.  A  gondola  or  steamer  may  well  be  taken  here  on  the  Riva  to 
S.  Pietro  di  Castello. 
H 


98  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

room  for  this  pleasant  recreation  ground.  Here  stood  the 
Churches  and  Convents  of  S.  Domenico,  of  S.  Niccolb  da  Bari, 
of  S.  Antonio  Abate,  and  the  Cappuccine.  But  one  church 
indeed  remains  to-day  on  the  island,  S.  Giuseppe  di  Castello, 
where  we  find  an  altarpiece  by  Tintoretto  and  an  Adoration 
of  the  Shepherds  by  Paolo  Veronese. 

Hence  we  return  to  the  Via  Garibaldi  and  follow  it  to  the  end, 
taking  the  last  bridge  on  the  left,  and  making  our  way  thence 
to  the  bridge  that  joins  the  Isola  di  Castellc  to  what  we  may 
call  Venice  proper.  This  picturesque  island  was  one  of  the 
largest  of  those  on  which  Venice  was  originally  founded.  It 
It  was  called  Olivolo  and  only,  I  think,  Castello  when  it  had 
been  surrounded  by  walls.  There  was  a  small  church  here 
called  S.  Sergio  e  S.  Bacco  as  early  as  650,  but  this  was 
destroyed,  and  in  774  a  church  was  built  on  the  site  to 
S.  Peter.  This  church  became  the  Cathedral  of  Venice. 
It  was  destroyed  in  the  sixteenth  century,  when  the  present 
church  was  built.  The  Campanile  is,  however,  of  the  fifteenth 
century. 

It  was  in  this  church  during  the  tenth  century  that  one  of 
the  most  amazing  raids  was  made  by  the  Dalmatian  pirates. 
It  happened  in  this  way.  It  was  the  custom  at  that  time  in 
the  city  of  Venice  for  all  those  who  wished  to  marry  to  get  this 
rite  performed  on  one  day,  31  January,  the  anniversary  of  the 
translation  of  the  body  of  S.  Mark,  in  the  Church  of  S.  Pietro 
d'  Olivolo.  The  whole  affair  was,  as  one  may  imagine,  a  great 
festa ;  the  Doge  was  present  in  state,  and  the  whole  cere- 
mony was  consecrated  by  many  old  customs,  among  them 
this,  that  each  bride  on  that  day  bore  her  dowry  with  her. 
Now  it  happened  that  the  pirates  who  then  and  later  infested 
these  coasts  and  waters,  knowing  of  this,  conceived  a  plot 
whereby  they  might  at  one  attempt  possess  themselves  of  a 
goodly  booty  of  money  and  jewels  and  of  many  fair  women, 
who  might  be  sold  for  a  good  price  or  kept  as  slaves.  Their 
scheme  was  nothing  less  than  to  carry  off  the  Venetian  brides 
on  the  morning  of  31  January,  when,  before  sunrise,  they 
assembled  in  the  Church  of  S.  Peter  to  await  their  betrothed 


SESTIERE  DI  CASTELLO  99 

husbands.  This  bold  scheme  they  carried  out  most  success- 
fully \  they  got  the  maids  and  the  booty  aboard  their  ships,  not 
one  escaped,  and  hoisting  sail  they  set  out  for  home.  They 
had  reckoned,  however,  without  the  Venetians.  The  news 
soon  spread,  and,  headed  by  the  Doge,  all  male  Venice,  with  the 
case-makers  at  their  head,  set  out  in  pursuit,  boats  were 
manned  and  the  race  began.  Now,  as  God  willed,  the  breeze 
that  had  promised  well  at  sunrise  presently  came  to  nothing. 
Pursued  and  pursuers  took  to  the  oars,  and  in  such  a  business 
and  in  these  conditions  the  Venetians  were  the  better  men. 
They  pursued  the  pirates,  came  up  with  them,  grappled  their 
ships,  and  without  mercy  slew  every  single  Dalmatian,  and 
rescued  their  brides,  who  in  the  hurry  had  not  been  hurt.  In 
memory  of  Venetian  courage  the  Doge  went  in  procession  to 
the  church  of  the  case-makers  who  had  headed  the  pursuit — 
S.  Maria  Formosa — on  the  Feast  of  the  Purification,  the  2nd 
of  February — the  Feast  of  the  Maries  as  it  came  to  be  called 
in  Venice — and  the  case-makers  then  made  him  a  present 
of  straw  hats  and  wine. 

Nothing  of  any  account  remains  in  S.  Pietro  save  an  ancient 
episcopal  chair,  to  remind  us  that  for  many  centuries,  till  1807, 
in  fact,  it  was  the  Cathedral  of  Venice. 

From  S.  Pietro  di  Castello  we  return  to  S.  Biagio,  and 
thence  make  our  way  through  the  byways  to  the  right  to  the 
Arsenal.  First  built  in  1104  and  several  times  enlarged,  so 
that  in  its  best  days  sixteen  thousand  workmen  were  employed 
here,  it  was  for  many  centuries  the  true  naval  port  and  building 
yard  of  Venice.  On  either  side  the  entrance  we  see  the  lions 
which  Doge  Francesco  Morosini  brought  from  Athens  in  1687. 
The  sitting  lion  stood  on  the  inner  shore  of  the  harbour  of  the 
Piraeus  and  gave  the  harbour  its  name  of  Porto  Leone ;  the 
other  was  set  upon  the  Sacred  Way,  a  little  outside  the  city. 
The  first  is  cut  and  engraved  with  Norse  runes  that  read: 
"  Hakon  with  Ulf,  Asmund  and  Orn  conquered  this  port — 
Piraeus.  These  men  and  Harold  the  Tall  (1040)  imposed 
great  fines  because  of  the  revolt  of  the  Greeks.  Dalk  has 
been  detained  in  distant  lands.     Egil  was  waging  war  together 


ioo  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

with  Ragnar  in  Roumania  and  Armenia.  Asmund  en- 
graved these  runes  in  combination  with  Asgeir,  Thorleif, 
Thord,  and  Ivar  by  desire  of  Harold  the  Tall,  although  the 
Greeks  on  reflection  opposed  it."  J 

The  Museum,  now  the  only  thing  to  be  visited  here  that  is 
of  much  interest,  contains  the  remains  of  the  Bucentauro,  the 
ship  of  the  Doge,  destroyed  by  the  French,  in  which  he  went 
forth  in  the  name  of  Venice  every  Ascension  Day  to  wed  the 
Adriatic. 

If  on  coming  out  of  the  Arsenal  we  turn  immediately  to  the 
right  we  shall  come  to  the  Church  of  S.  Martino,  founded  by 
the  first  fugitives  from  the  mainland.  The  present  building  is 
the  work  of  Jacopo  Sansovino,  or  at  least  from  his  designs. 
To  the  right  of  the  High  Altar  there  is  a  Last  Supper  by 
Girolamo  da   S.    Croce. 

Close  by,  in  the  now  destroyed  Cistercian  convent  La 
Celestia,  Carlo  Zeno,  the  hero  of  Chioggia  was  buried  by  his 
men  in  1418. 

From  S.  Martino  we  pass  to  S.  Giovanni  in  Bragora, 
founded  by  S.  Magno  in  the  seventh  century,  but  in  its  present 
form  dating  from  the  eighteenth.  On  the  piers  before  the  choir 
chapel  are  two  works,  one  by  Cima,  Constantine  and  S.  Helena 
with  the  Cross,  painted  in  1502.  Its  predella  hangs  in  the  left 
aisle  and  shows  three  scenes  from  the  Legend  of  the  Cross. 
The  other,  the  Resurrection,  was  painted  in  1492  by  Alvise 
Vivarini.  Behind  the  High  Altar  is  another  Cima,  one  of  his 
best  works,  the  Baptism  of  Christ,  painted  in  1494.  On  the 
left  side  of  the  church  is  a  Last  Supper  by  Paris  Bordone,  and 
a  charming  Madonna  and  Child  with  SS.  Andrew  and  John 
Baptist   by  Bartolommeo  Vivarini,  painted  in  1478. 

From  the  Campo  di  S.  Giovanni  in  Bragora  we  proceed 
north  past  the  Church  of  S.  Antonino,  which  was  founded  in 
the  ninth  century  and  rebuilt  in  its  present  form  in  1680,  to 
S.  Giorgio  dei  Greci,  built  by  the  Greeks  in  1539.  The 
history  of  the  Greek  Church  in  Venice  is  curious.  Here  till 
1797,  it  is  said,  it  remained  in  communion  with  the  Venetian 
1  Quarterly  Review. 


SESTIERE   DI   CASTELLO  101 

Church — that  is  to  say,  with  Rome.  The  first  chapel  of  the 
Greeks  in  the  city  was  the  oratory  of  S.  Ursula,  and  later  they 
were  to  be  found  at  S.  Biagio.  S.  Giorgio  dei  Greci,  however, 
is  their  own  national  building. 

We  return  to  S.  Antonino  and  again  proceed  north  to 
S.  Giorgio  degli  Schiavoni,  the  Dalmatian  church.  It  was 
built  in  145 1,  and  a  hundred  years  later  got  its  present  facade 
by  Jacopo  Sansovino.  It  is  still  adorned  by  Carpaccio's 
famous  and  well-loved  paintings  illustrating  the  lives  of  the 
three  great  Dalmatian  saints — S.  George,  S.  Jerome,  and 
S.  Tryphonius.  On  the  left  are  three  scenes  from  the  life  of 
S.  George : — 

1.  S.  George  and  the  Dragon.  Mounted  on  a  brown  horse 
the  youthful  golden-haired  saint  pierces  the  dragon  with  his 
spear.  The  princess  he  has  so  gallantly  rescued  stands  by 
still  fearful.  Far  away  we  see  a  smiling  country,  a  city  and 
ships.     It  is  the  hour  of  sunset. 

2.  The  captive  and  tamed  dragon  is  brought  into  the  city  to 
the  father  and  mother  of  the  princess. 

3 .  The  king  and  the  princess  are  baptized. 

So  much  of  the  story  of  S.  George  Carpaccio  has  painted 
here. 

On  the  right  of  the  church  are  three  scenes  from  the  life  of 
S.  Jerome :  S.  Jerome  faces  the  lion  and  pacifies  him,  while 
his  companions  flee  away ;  the  Death  of  S.  Jerome,  a  lovely 
and  simple  composition ;  S.  Jerome  in  his  study.  Beside  the 
altar  is  the  picture  devoted  to  S.  Tryphonius,  who  subdues  by 
prayer  the  Basilisk  which  devastated  Albania.  Beside  this  we 
see  Our  Lord  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  and  the  calling  of 
S.  Matthew.  Over  the  altar  is  a  Madonna  and  Child  by 
Catena.  The  upper  chamber  with  its  fine  ceiling  is  worth 
a  visit. 

Close  beside  S.  Giorgio  is  the  Church  of  S.  Giovanni  di 
Malta,  which  of  old  belonged  to  the  Knights  Templars.  The 
Dalmatians  had  an  altar  in  this  church  before  S.  Giorgio  was 
built. 

From  S.  Giorgio  we  make  our  way  still  due  north  through 


102  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

the  narrow  ways  to  S.  Francesco  della  Vigna.1  This 
church  was  originally  dedicated  to  S.  Mark,  and  came 
to  the  Franciscans  from  Marco,  the  son  of  Doge  Pietro  Ziani. 
The  Franciscans  rebuilt  it  in  1534  with  a  facade  by  Palladio, 
and  an  interior  by  Jacopo  Sansovino,  and  restored  the 
convent,  now  a  barracks.  It  contains  several  fine  pictures, 
including  a  restored  Giovanni  Bellini,  a  Madonna  and  four 
saints,  a  restored  picture  of  Christ  by  Girolamo  da  S.  Croce, 
and  an  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  also  restored,  by  Paolo 
Veronese ;  but  nothing  to  compare  for  a  moment  with  the 
glorious  enthroned  Madonna  by  Frat'  Antonio  da  Negroponte, 
painted  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  which  hangs  in 
the  right  transept.  This  is  a  masterpiece  I  would  walk 
many  miles  to  see,  and  for  which  I  would  leave  any  sacred 
picture  by  the  later  great  masters  of  Venice.  It  has  every 
thing  that  their  works  so  conspicuously  lack,  and  in  every  way 
is  what  we  have  learnt  in  Tuscany  to  expect  an  altarpiece  of 
the  Madonna  to  be.  It  is  as  though  before  our  eyes  the 
canticle  of  the  Magnificat  had  become  visible,  as  though  in  a 
vision  we  had  seen  our  hearts'  desire. 

Leaving  S.  Francesco,  we  pass  now  westward  through  the 
lanes  to  SS.  Giovanni  and  Paolo.  This  is  the  great 
Dominican  church  of  Venice,  and  stands,  as  always,  on  one 
side  of  the  city,  as  the  Frari,  the  great  Franciscan  church, 
does  on  the  other.  So  it  is  in  Florence  and  so  in  Siena. 
The  church  was  begun  as  early  as  1246  on  a  piece  of  land  given 
to  the  Dominican  Order  by  Doge  Giacomo  Tiepolo.  It  was 
nearly  two  hundred  years  in  building.  But  before  1246  there 
is  said  to  have  been  a  Dominican  oratory  here  dedicated  to 
S.  Daniele,  and  the  Doge  is  said  to  have  had  a  vision  in 
which  he  saw  this  tiny  chapel,  the  Campo  covered  with 
flowers,  and  to  have  heard  a  voice  which  said,  "  This  place  I 
have  chosen  for  My  Preachers."  However  this  may  be,  the 
Doge  gave  the  ground,  then  a  marsh,  to  the  Dominicans,  and 
was  himself  buried,  as  we  may  see,  just  without  the  church  by 

x  For  an  interesting  article  on  this  church  see  A.  Tessier  in  Miscel- 
lanea Francescana  (Foligno),  vol.  i,  p.  71  et  seq. 


•         9 

•••••••  >•• 

•  •        *        >      »  »         »  '  •  • 


MADONNA    ENTHRONED 

ANTONIO    DA   NEGROPONTE 
(S.  Francesco  delta  Vigna) 


SESTIERE   DI   CASTELLO  103 

the  facade.  The  church  has  two  other  connexions  with  the 
Doges.  Here  they  all  lay  in  state,  and  a  great  number  of  them 
were  here  buried.  If  Venice  has  any  other  church  which 
may  stand  for  her  besides  S.  Mark's  it  is  this,  where  so  many 
of  her  Doges  and  her  admirals  lie  buried ;  while  without, 
as  though  on  guard,  rides  the  noblest  of  her  condottiere, 
Bartolommeo  Colleoni,  expressed  in  eternal  bronze  by  the 
greatest  of  Florentine  sculptors,  Andrea  Verrocchio.  This, 
the  noblest  equestrian  statue  in  the  world,  is  nobly  placed  in 
the  Campo  of  the  great  church  that  holds  so  much  of  the 
heroism  of  Venice. 

There,  too,  beside  the  church  stands  the  Scuola  di  S.  Marco, 
one  of  the  finest  early  Renaissance  buildings  in  the  city,  and 
peculiarly  Venetian  in  style.  It  is  the  work  of  Martino 
Lombardi,  and  still  fulfils  its  charitable  object,  for  it  is  now  a 
hospital. 

Entering  the  vast  church  itself  one  is  struck  by  its  spacious- 
ness, its  monumental  effect  of  largeness  and  light.  Within,  to 
the  right,  is  the  fine  tomb  of  the  Doge  Pietro  Mocenigo,  the 
hammer  of  the  Turks,  who  died  in  1476.  This  tomb 
with  its  many  statues  is  the  work  of  Pietro  Lombardo.  To 
the  left  is  the  tomb  of  another  Mocenigo,  Doge  Giovanni, 
who  died  in  1455.  This  is  the  work  of  Tullio  and  Antonio 
Lombardo.  Above  the  entrance  lies  another  Doge  of  the 
same  House,  Luigi  Mocenigo,  who  figured  at  the  battle  of 
Lepanto,  but  who  lost  Cyprus.  He  died  in  1577,  and  his 
wife  is  buried  with  him. 

In  the  right  aisle  we  come  first  to  a  picture  by  Bissolo  of 
the  Madonna  and  Child  with  saints,  over  the  first  altar.  Then 
on  the  left  to  the  monument  and  tomb  of  Marc  Antonio 
Bragadino  (157 1),  who  held  Cyprus  as  long  as  he  could,  but 
lost  it  at  last,  and  was  flayed  alive  by  the  Turks.  Over  the 
second  altar  is  a  fine  early  altarpiece  of  the  school  of  the 
Vivarini,  and  beside  it  the  tomb  of  the  Senator  Alvise  Michiel 
(1589).  We  pass  by  the  vast  monument  of  the  Valier,  built 
by  the  pupils  of  Bernini  in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  enter 
the    right    transept.     Here    on    the    wall    is   a    picture    of 


io4  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

S.  Augustine  by  Bartolommeo  Vivarini,  painted  in  1478. 
Close  by  is  the  tomb  of  Niccolb  Orsini  the  general,  with  his 
equestrian  statue.  He  faced  the  League  of  Cambrai  and  lost. 
Over  the  first  altar  there  is  a  charming  Lotto,  the  Apotheosis 
of  S.  Antonino  of  Florence.  Over  the  door  is  the  tomb  of 
Dionigi  Naldo,  the  general,  by  Lorenzo  Bregno. 

In  the  first  choir  chapel  is  the  tomb  of  an  Englishman, 
Baron  Windsor,  who  died  in  1574.  In  the  choir  are  the 
tombs  of  Doge  Michele  Morosini  (1382),  a  fine  Gothic  work 
with  mosaic  in  the  lunette;  of  Doge  Leonardo  Loredan 
(1521);  of  Doge  Andrea  Vendramin  (1478),  one  of  the 
loveliest  of  all  Venetian  monuments  spoiled  by  Lorenzo 
Bregno;  and  of  Doge  Marco  Corner  (1368),  another  fine 
Gothic  work.  In  the  second  chapel,  to  the  left  of  the  choir, 
is  the  fine  Gothic  tomb  of  Jacopo  Cavalli,  condottiere  of  the 
Republic,  who  died  in  1384.     It  is  the  work  of  Massegne. 

The  battle  of  Lepanto  is  here  commemorated  in  the 
Cappella  del  Rosario,  which  was  founded  in  memory  of  that 
victory  in  157 1.  The  Doge  Antonio  Venier  (1400)  lies  in  the 
tomb  over  the  entrance ;  his  wife  and  daughters  lie  in  the 
church  in  the  left  transept.  The  chapel  was  destroyed  by  fire 
in  1867. 

The  left  aisle,  too,  is  full  of  monuments.  There  we  have 
those  of  DogePasquale  Malipiero  (1462),  Doge  Michele  Steno 
(14 1 3),  the  splendid  monument  of  Florentine  work  to  Doge 
Tommaso  Mocenigo  (1423),  and  the  tomb  of  Doge  Niccold 
Marcello  (1474),  the  last  by  Pietro  Lombardo.  Close  by  is 
the  equestrian  statue  of  Orazio  Baglioni  (16 17). 

In  the  sacristy,  to  the  left  of  the  altar,  is  a  work  by  Alvise 
Vivarini  of  Christ  bearing  His  Cross,  a  fine  work  by  this 
rather  rare  master. 


VI 
SESTIERE  DI   S.   MARCO 

THE  MERCERIA — S.  ZULIAN — S.  SALVATORE — S.  BARTOLOMMEO 
— S.  LIO — S.  MARIA  FORMOSA — S.  GIOVANNI  CRISOSTOMO — 
FONDACO  DEI  TEDESCHI — PONTE  DI  RIALTO — S.  VITALE — 
S.    STEFANO 

THIS  is,  as  it  were,  the  central  division  of  the  three 
sestieri  which  lie  to  the  north  of  the  Grand  Canal.  It 
has  to  the  east  the  largest  of  all,  the  sestiere  of  Castello,  and 
to  the  west  that  of  Cannaregio.  The  Sestiere  di  S.  Marco  really 
comprises  all  that  great  promontory  of  the  city  which  thrusts 
itself  southward  from  the  north  into  the  Grand  Canal.  Its 
boundaries  are  the  Rio  del  Palazzo  and  the  canals  which  to 
the  left  lead  out  of  it  just  to  the  north  of  S.  Zulian  and  enter 
the  Grand  Canal  just  above  the  Fondaco  dei  Tedeschi,  beyond 
the  Ponte  di  Rialto. x  The  best  way  to  examine  this  region 
will  be  by  way  of  the  Merceria. 

The  Merceria  leaves  the  Piazza  di  S.  Marco  under  the  clock- 
tower,  and  is  the  oldest  and  the  principal  business  street  of 
the  city.  Here  the  sword-makers,  the  armourers,  and  the 
drapers  and  merchants  in  brocades  and  stuffs  of  cloth  of  gold 
and  silver  had  their  shops.  Evelyn,  who  was  in  Venice 
in  1645,  speaks  of  it  very  eloquently :  "  I  passed  through  the 
Merceria,"  he  says,  "  one  of  the  most  delicious  streetes  in  the 
world  for  the  sweetnesse  of  it,  and  is  all  the  way  on  both 
sides  tapistred,  as  it  were,  with  cloth  of  gold,  rich  damasks 

1  See  end-paper  map. 
105 


106  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

and  other  silk,  which  the  shops  expose  and  hang  before  their 
houses  from  ye  firste  floore,  and  with  that  variety  that  for 
neere  half  ye  yeare  spent  chiefly  in  this  citty,  I  hardly  remem- 
ber to  have  seene  ye  same  piece  twice  exposed ;  to  this  add 
the  perfumers,  apothecaries  shops,  and  the  innumerable  cages 
of  nightingales  which  they  keepe,  that  entertaine  you  with 
their  melody  from  shop  to  shop,  so  that,  shutting  your  eyes, 
you  would  imagine  yourselfe  in  the  country,  when  indeede 
you  are  in  the  middle  of  the  sea.  It  is  almost  as  silent  as  the 
middle  of  a  field,  there  being  neither  rattling  of  coaches  nor 
trampling  of  horses.  This  streete,  paved  with  brick  and 
exceedingly  cleane,  brought  us  through  an  arch  into  the 
famous  piazza  of  St.  Marc.  Over  the  arch  stands  that  admir- 
able clock  celebrated  next  to  that  of  Strassburg  for  its  many 
movements ;  amongst  which  about  1 2  and  6,  which  are  their 
houres  of  Ave  Maria,  when  all  the  towne  are  on  their  knees, 
come  forth  the  three  kinges  led  by  a  starr,  and  passing  by  ye 
image  of  Christ  in  His  Mother's  armes,  do  their  reverence, 
and  enter  into  ye  clock  by  another  doore.  At  the  top  of  this 
turret  another  automaton  strikes  ye  quarters ;  an  honest  mer- 
chant told  me  that  walking  in  the  piazza  he  saw  the  fellow 
who  kept  the  clock  struck  with  this  hammer  so  forceably,  as 
he  was  stooping  his  head  neare  the  bell  to  mende  something 
amisse  at  the  instant  of  striking,  that  being  stunn'd  he  'reel'd 
over  the  battlements  and  broke  his  neck." 

It  is  perhaps  difficult  for  the  traveller  to  realize  that  this 
street,  which  seems  so  narrow  and  tortuous,  is  in  fact,  as  it 
has  been  for  many  centuries,  the  chief  thoroughfare  of  Venice 
apart  from  the  canals.  It  leads  from  the  Piazza  di  S.  Marco 
past  two  great  churches,  S.  Zulian  and  S.  Salvatore  to  the 
Fondaco  dei  Tedeschi  and  the  Rialto.  And  to-day  it  is 
divided  into  three  main  parts,  which  get  their  names  from 
these  churches  and  from  the  clock-tower  whence  the  Merceria 
starts ;  they  are  known  as  the  Merceria  dell'  Orologio,  di  S. 
Zulian,  and  di  S.  Salvatore.  Nor  was  it  merely  as  the  great 
street  of  the  shops  and  of  the  merchants  that  the  Merceria 
was  celebrated.     It  was  the  great  processional  way  of  Venice, 


THE   GRAND   CANAL,    VENICE 


SESTIERE  DI  S.   MARCO  107 

apart  from  the  Grand  Canal.  The  Patriarchs  and  Procuratori 
made  their  entry  into  Venice  on  their  appointment  by  the 
Merceria,  which  was  gaily  decorated  for  the  occasion.  They 
came  from  the  Rialto  bridge,  then  and  till  late  years  the  only 
bridge  across  the  Grand  Canal.  But  this  part  of  the  Mer- 
ceria, the  Merceria  dell'  Orologio,  is  perhaps  most  famous  as 
the  scene  of  the  Feria  dell'  Ascensione,  the  Fair  of  the  Ascen- 
sion, which  accompanied  the  great  ritual  of  the  wedding  of  the 
Adriatic  which  the  Doge  performed  at  the  Lido  every  year  on 
that  day.  We  shall  speak  of  that  splendid  ceremony  later; 
here  we  shall  deal  with  the  fair  which  accompanied  it,  advan- 
tage being  taken  of  the  presence  of  many  strangers  in  Venice 
drawn  thither  by  the  national  feast  and  the  Indulgences  the 
Pope  had  conferred  upon  all  visits  paid  at  that  time  to  the 
shrine  of  S.  Mark. 

The  fair  had  its  origin  in  1180.  It  was  held,  as  I  have 
said,  in  the  Merceria  dell'  Orologio  and  in  that  part  of  the 
Piazza  especially  into  which  that  street  opens.  It  began  on 
the  Vigil  of  the  Ascension,  whence  its  popular  name  of  Sensa 
arose,  and  it  lasted  officially  for  the  eight  following  days,  but 
actually  it  was  prolonged  by  the  people  for  fifteen.  Innu- 
merable booths  were  built  in  the  Piazza,  the  shops  and  stalls 
of  the  Merceria  were  decorated,  and  there  were  exposed  the 
rarest  and  loveliest  productions  of  the  Orient  side  by  side 
with  Venetian  work  in  cloth  of  gold  and  silver,  in  glass,  in 
iron  and  armour  and  the  beaks  of  ships.  All  was  gaiety  and 
profusion,  and  I  suppose  that  nowhere  to-day  can  such  a 
scene  be  witnessed,  save,  perhaps,  in  Seville  at  Easter.  One 
strange  and  characteristic  feature  of  the  Venetian  fair  must 
not  be  altogether  passed  over.  In  the  midst  of  the  Feria  a 
great  doll  dressed  as  a  woman  in  the  latest  fashion  was  set  up, 
and  if  we  may  believe  the  report  served  as  a  sort  of  model  for 
the  mode  during  the  year.  One  must  not,  however,  confuse 
this  Feria  with  that  which  the  Senate  arranged  in  1776 
and  the  following  years.  This  later  fair  was  a  much  more 
luxurious  and  corrupt  business.  A  kind  of  vast  exhibition 
was  then  organized  in  a  large  building  erected  here  for  the 


io8  VENICE   AND  YENETIA 

occasion,  of  which  the  celebrated  Macaruzzi  was  part.  This 
was  an  architectural  feature  apparently  of  some  beauty.  Oval 
in  shape,  it  was  divided  into  four  parts  within,  where  in  the 
innermost  circuit  the  most  precious  goods  were  exposed,  those 
of  less  quality  and  price  being  arranged  in  the  exterior  parts. 
But  the  great  feature  of  this  later  fair  was  the  exhibition  of 
dolls  in  the  Merceria,  all  dressed  in  the  latest  styles  and 
evidently  a  development  of  the  great  figure  that  adorned  the 
earlier  Feria.  They  were  a  sort  of  fashion  plates,  and  set  the 
mode  for  men  as  well  as  women.  The  people  attended  in 
domino,  the  women  often  dressed  as  men.  The  fair  seems 
at  last  to  have  degenerated  into  a  sort  of  disgraceful  carnival 
where  every  sort  of  licence  was  allowed  and  public  gambling 
was  the  chief  attraction. 

The  Merceria  is  still,  I  suppose,  robbed  though  it  be  of  all 
its  riches,  the  busiest  street  in  the  city,  through  which  it 
winds  so  tortuously  that  but  for  the  stream  of  people  one 
would  soon  lose  one's  way. 

After  passing  the  Calle  del  Cappello  Nero,  where  one  of  the 
old  inns  of  Venice,  founded  in  1341,  still  plies  its  trade,  we 
come  in  the  second  street  on  the  right  to  the  Church  of 
S.  Zulian  or  S.  Giuliano.  A  church  has  stood  here  under 
this  dedication  since  the  ninth  century,  but  the  building  we 
see  was  designed  by  Jacopo  Sansovino  in  1553,  and  was  for 
the  most  part  built  by  Alessandro  Vittoria.  Over  the  door- 
way is  a  bronze  statue  of  Thomas  of  Ravenna,  the  founder,  by 
Sansovino.  Within  the  church  is  spacious,  though  dark.  It 
contains  nothing  of  very  great  interest :  a  Madonna  and  Child 
with  four  saints  by  Boccaccio  Boccaccini  over  the  first  altar  on 
the  left,  a  Coronation  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  by  Girolamo  da 
S.  Croce  over  the  High  Altar,  and  some  reliefs  and  statues  by 
Campagna  in  the  chapel  to  the  north  of  the  High  Altar,  nothing 
else,  save  an  early  Madonna,  a  miracle  picture,  in  the  chapel 
at  the  top  of  the  south  aisle. 

Returning  to  the  Merceria,  we  come  into  that  part  of  it 
which  of  old  was  devoted  to  the  sale  of  hats  and  of  leather 
work.     The  first  bridge  we  cross  is  the  Ponte  dei  Berrettai, 


SESTIERE   DI  8.   MARCO  109 

whose  name  commemorates  this.  Thence  we  enter  the  Mer- 
ceria  di  S.  Salvatore  and  soon  see  the  noble  and  lofty  choir  of 
the  church  of  that  name  between  the  close-packed  houses  in 
the  vista  of  the  street. 

There  has  been  a  Church  of  S.  Salvatore  on  this  site  since 
very  early  times.  Under  the  porch  of  that  which  stood  here 
in  the  twelfth  century  Pope  Alexander  III  is  said  to  have 
spent  the  night  as  a  fugitive,  and  an  old  shrine  on  the 
front  of  the  present  church  commemorates  this ;  but  S.  Sal- 
vatore is  not  the  only  church  in  Venice  which  claims  this 
honour.  The  story  goes — it  is  told  in  the  pictures  that  deco- 
rate the  north  wall  of  the  Sala  del  Maggior  Consiglio  in  the 
Doge's  Palace — that  in  11 77  Pope  Alexander  III  came  to 
Venice  as  a  refuge  from  the  wrath  of  the  Emperor  Frederic 
Barbarossa.  He  came  as  a  pilgrim,  disguised,  and  having 
nowhere  to  lay  his  head,  spent  the  night  in  the  porch  of  this 
church,  where  in  the  morning  he  was  recognized  and  brought 
with  all  honour  to  the  Doge.  Another  tale  has  it  that  he 
served  in  the  kitchen  of  the  convent  of  S.  Maria  della  Carita 
for  some  six  months,  till  indeed  he  was  recognized  by  a  French- 
man who  had  once  seen  him  in  Rome.  All  this  was  in  the 
time  of  Doge  Sebastiano  Ziani,  who,  as  the  pictures  in  the 
Doge's  Palace  tell  us,  brought  the  Emperor  to  his  knees  before 
the  Pope  in  the  porch  of  S.  Mark's  Church. 

The  present  church  of  S.  Salvatore  was  built  by  Tullio 
Lombardo  in  the  first  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  is, 
perhaps,  the  finest  Renaissance  church  in  Venice.  The 
facade,  however,  is  a  baroque  work  of  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  It  contains  two  works  of  the  highest  interest 
— the  Transfiguration,  by  Titian,  in  the  choir,  and  the  Annun- 
ciation, by  the  same  master,  over  the  third  altar  in  the  right 
aisle.  The  first  is  a  work  in  the  master's  later  style,  painted 
after  1560  but  before  1566,  when  Vasari  saw  it.  It  has,  how- 
ever, unhappily  been  much  restored  and  gravely  injured.  The 
Annunciation,  painted  at  the  same  period,  is  still  perfect. 
Not  one  of  Titian's  religious  pictures  has  the  power  to  move 
us  as  any  work  by  Giotto  or  Simone  Martini  can  do,  but  if 


no  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

there  be  any  in  Venice  that  may  compare  with  the  Entomb- 
ment, in  Paris,  for  instance,  or  the  tremendous  Crowning 
with  Thorns  at  Munich — it  is  certainly  here  in  S.  Salvatore  we 
shall  find  it.  Titian  himself  does  not  seem  to  have  thought 
much  of  the  Transfiguration,  according  to  Vasari ;  but  I  some- 
times think  that,  in  spite  of  its  restoration  and  injury,  it  is  the 
most  profound  and  powerful  of  all  those  works  which  speak  to 
us  so  insistently  rather  of  God  than  of  man.  Here,  for  a 
moment,  we  seem  to  forget  man  altogether  in  a  sudden  appari- 
tion of  God  Himself.  The  Son  of  Man  is  transfigured  indeed, 
and  something  for  once  in  the  passionate  gesture  of  those  who 
make  up  that  little  company  impresses  us  almost  with  the 
unction  of  a  Christian  hymn.  Nor  is  the  Annunciation  less 
profound  in  conception  or  less  wonderful  in  achievement. 
These  are  works  of  Titian's  age,  when  maybe  the  glamour  of 
the  world  was  beginning  to  be  a  burden.  At  any  rate  they 
seem  to  have  astonished  the  Venetians ;  the  good  monks  of 
S.  Salvatore  even  were  dissatisfied,  for,  as  they  said,  the  picture 
seemed  to  be  unfinished.  Therefore,  so  the  tale  goes,  Titian 
signed  it  twice.  "  Titian  fecit  fecit"  we  read  on  the  canvas — 
"  Titian  made  it  indeed."  That  city,  already  so  full  of  levity, 
failed  to  understand  the  master  when  at  last  he  turned  to 
express  the  solitude  that  fills  the  soul  and  cries  for  some 
apprehension  of  the  eternal. 

One  other  important  picture  the  church  possesses.  I  mean 
the  Supper  at  Emmaus,  attributed  to  Giovanni  Bellini,  but 
really  the  work  of  some  unknown  painter  which  seems  to  have 
fixed,  or  at  least  to  represent,  the  type  of  composition  accepted 
in  Venice  for  those  religious  subjects  in  which  sacred  and 
profane  are  mingled. 

Nor  do  these  three  pictures  sum  up  the  treasures  of  the 
church.  The  beautiful  organ  shutters  are  the  work  of  Fran- 
cesco Vecelli,  Titian's  brother,  and  in  their  Giorgionesque 
loveliness  are  worthy  of  all  attention,  though  their  author 
seems  to  have  been  so  little  content  with  his  achievement 
that  he  gave  up  the  career  of  an  artist  for  the  nobler  business 
of  a  soldier. 


SESTIERE  DI  S.  MARCO  in 

And  then  over  the  second  altar  on  the  right  is  one  of  Cam- 
pagna's  Madonnas  surrounded  by  angels,  while  close  by  is 
the  monument  of  Doge  Francesco  Venier,  who  died  in  1556. 
In  the  right  transept  is  the  tomb  of  that  Queen  of  Cyprus, 
Catharine  Cornaro,  who  in  1489  ceded  her  island  to  the 
Republic  in  which  after  all  she  was  born.  The  bronze  monu- 
ment of  the  Doges  Girolamo  and  Lorenzo  Priuli,  who  were 
brothers,  is  in  the  left  aisle. 

We  come  out  of  the  quiet  church  into  the  narrow  and  busy 
way  and  pass  on  to  the  Campo  di  S.  Bartolommeo  with  its 
statue  of  Carlo  Goldoni,  placed  here  in  1883.  At  the  corner  is 
the  Church  of  S.  Bartolommeo,  which  on  its  foundation  in  840 
was  called  S.  Demetrio,  and  only  came  to  S.  Bartholomew 
in  1 1 70.  As  we  see  it,  however,  it  is  a  work  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  its  only  possession  is  the  charming  work  Sebas- 
tiano  del  Piombo  did  here  in  his  youth  under  the  influence  of 
Giorgione.  His  two  pictures,  two  saints  in  each,  SS.  Sinibald 
and  Louis  on  the  right,  SS.  Bartholomew  and  Sebastian  on 
the  left,  hang  on  either  side  of  the  organ. 

If  we  turn  out  of  the  Campo  di  S.  Bartolommeo  sharp  to  the 
right  and  cross  a  small  canal,  we  shall  find  ourselves  in  the 
Campiello  di  S.  Lio.  The  little  Church  of  S.  Lio  here,  was,  it 
is  said,  founded  by  the  Badoer ;  it  was  rebuilt,  however,  in  the 
eleventh  century,  when  it  was  dedicated  to  S.  Leo  IX.  The 
church  we  see,  however,  dates  from  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  was  restored  in  the  end  of  the  eighteenth.  It  possesses 
one  precious  thing — a  picture  of  St.  James  the  Apostle  by 
Titian.  The  picture  is  dirty,  but  can  be  fairly  well  seen  in  the 
early  morning.  It  is  a  work  of  Titian's  late  period,  painted 
about  1565  to  1570,  and  is,  according  to  Dr.  Gronau,  the 
most  neglected  work  by  the  master  in  Venice. 

We  leave  the  Campiello  by  the  continuation  of  the  street 
by  which  we  entered  it,  and  where  it  ends  we  turn  to  the  left, 
cross  a  canal  and  come  into  the  Campo  di  S.  Maria  Formosa, 
where  stands  the  church  of  that  name,  which  is  said  to  have 
been  founded  in  the  seventh  century  by  S.  Magno.  It  was 
entirely  rebuilt  in  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century.    S.  Maria 


ii2  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

Formosa  was  the  church  of  the  fruitsellers  and  case-makers 
and  gunners,  whose  scuole  were  close  by  under  the  Campanile. 
It  was  the  case-makers  who  were  chiefly  responsible  for  the 
rescue  of  the  brides  carried  off  by  the  pirates  from  S.  Pietro 
di  Castello  in  the  tenth  century,1  and  for  this  cause  on 
2  February,  the  Feast  of  the  Purification  or  Candlemas,  the 
Doge  used  to  visit  this  church.  For  us,  however,  the  church 
is  chiefly  remarkable,  I  suppose,  as  possessing  Palma  Vec- 
chio's  lovely  altarpiece,  in  the  chapel  of  the  gunners  in  the 
right  aisle.  Here  we  see  their  patron  saint,  S.  Barbara,  with 
four  attendant  saints,  while  above  is  a  Pieta.  This  picture, 
which  has  won  the  admiration  of  mankind,  was  painted  under 
the  influence  of  Giorgione,  and  is  in  many  ways,  I  suppose, 
Palma 's  loveliest  achievement.  It  is  divided  into  four  compart- 
ments. In  the  midst  stands  S.  Barbara  crowned,  the  palm  of 
martyrdom  in  her  hand.  Beside  the  pedestal  on  which  she 
stands  are  two  cannon  of  the  gunners.  And  indeed  she  is 
worthy  to  inspire  any  soldier.  On  her  right  are  SS.  Sebastian 
and  John  Baptist,  on  her  left  SS.  Anthony  and  Dominic, 
painted  in  full  length  but  on  a  smaller  scale  than  the  central 
figure.     Above  in  the  lunette  over  all  lies  the  dead  Christ. 

There  are  other  fine  works  in  the  church,  as  that  altarpiece 
by  Bartolommeo  Vivarini,  in  which  we  see  the  Birth  of  Our 
Lady,  and,  again,  the  Mater  Misericordiae,  and,  again,  SS. 
Joachim  and  Anne  :  this  over  the  second  altar  on  the  right. 
In  the  south  transept  we  find  a  Last  Supper  by  Leandro 
Bassano,  and  in  a  chapel  reached  by  a  staircase  a  Madonna 
and  Child  by  Sassoferrato,  and,  far  better,  a  Madonna  and 
Child  by  Pietro  da  Messina. 

From  S.  Maria  Formosa  we  make  our  way  back  past  S.  Lio 
to  the  Campo  di  S.  Bartolommeo.  Following  the  Merceria 
here  onward,  we  pass  the  back  of  the  Fondaco  dei  Tedeschi, 
and  crossing  a  side  canal  presently  come  to  the  Church  of 
S.  Giovanni  Crisostomo,  which  really  stands  in  the  Sestiere  di 
Cannaregio. 
This  church  was  founded  in  the  eleventh  century,  but  was 
1  See  supra,)  p.  98. 


SESTIERE  DI  S.   MARCO  113 

completely  rebuilt  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  by  Moro  Lom- 
bardo.  Its  greatest  treasure  is  an  altarpiece  by  Giovanni  Bellini. 
This  stands  over  the  second  altar  on  the  right,  and  represents 
a  beautiful  country-side  in  which  we  see  S.  Jerome  seated,  his 
great  book  resting  on  the  bough  of  a  fig-tree,  while  beside  him 
stand  S.  Augustine  and  S.  Christopher.  This  work,  one  of 
the  loveliest  by  the  master  in  all  Venice,  where  his  works  are 
so  plentiful,  was  painted  in  15 13,  when  he  was  eighty-seven 
years  old.  The  most  serene  and  dear  of  all  Venetian  masters 
seems  to  have  turned  to  landscape  in  his  old  age  with  a 
sudden  and  new-found  joy,  as  though  only  when  he  must 
leave  the  world  at  last  had  he  found  how  close  the  hills,  the 
sunshine,  and  the  sea  were  to  his  heart.  They  are  like  a  new 
thought  in  all  the  work  of  his  last  period,  and  they  give  to  his 
work  something  of  that  musical  quality  which  we  find  in  the 
paintings  of  Giorgione  and  the  young  Titian.  Something 
serene,  too  S  What  can  be  more  full  of  peace  and  reconciliation 
than  this  quiet  valley  at  sunset  where  these  three  have  fore- 
gathered as  though  by  chance  and  are  discussing,  doubtless, 
the  infinite  ways  of  life,  that  lead  to  a  common  end,  as  serene, 
one  might  dare  to  hope,  as  this,  while  the  sun  sets  over  hill 
and  valley  ?  It  is  surely  in  the  serenity  of  such  work  as  this 
that  the  soul  of  Europe  is  most  truly  expressed,  her  faith  in 
God  and  in  herself.  I  seem  to  see  in  such  a  work  the  very 
simplicity  and  courage  of  that  old  Venice,  the  true  city  of 
the  sea,  which  was  a  stranger  to  superstition  and  whom  no 
one  could  make  afraid. 

S.  Giovanni  Crisostomo  possesses  another  fine  picture  in 
the  S.  Chrysostom  with  SS.  Augustine,  John  Baptist,  Liberale, 
Catherine,  Agnes,  and  Mary  Magdalen  over  the  High  Altar, 
by  Sebastiano  del  Piombo.  This  painter  had  been  a  pupil  of 
Bellini,  but,  attracted  by  the  new  work  of  Giorgione,  he  left  his 
old  master  to  study  under  the  new  painter.  This  splendid 
altarpiece  is  the  result  of  that  change.  There  enthroned  under 
avast  portico,  through  which  we  see  the  country-side  and  the  hills 
with  a  little  town  upon  one  of  them,  is  S.  Chrysostom  writing 
in  his  book.    About  him  the  saints  I  have  named  are  grouped, 


ii4  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

the  men  before  him,  the  women  behind.  Here,  too,  some 
wonderful  serenity  seems  to  be  expressed,  almost  in  spite  of 
the  painter,  by  that  far-away  glimpse  of  the  world  through 
the  open  loggia.  Here,  too,  we  see  something  new  in  Venetian 
painting,  something  living  and  yet  without  violence.  The 
genius  of  Giorgione  has  suddenly  revealed  to  all  men  just  for 
a  moment  a  new  charm,  a  new  beatitude  in  life  and  in  the 
world. 

Close  by  S.  Crisostomo,  as  I  said,  stands  the  Fondaco 
dei  Tedeschi,  the  facade  of  which  towards  the  canal  was 
painted  by  Giorgione  with  frescoes  whose  last  colours  still  stain 
the  waters  of  the  Canalazzo  in  the  shadow  of  the  Ponte  di 
Rialto.  Before  1180  there  was  only  a  traghetto  here,  but  in 
that  year  a  bridge  of  boats  was  made,  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
thirteenth  century  a  bridge  was  built  on  wooden  piles.  This 
was  destroyed  in  the  Tiepolo  conspiracy,  and  though  it  was 
rebuilt  it  broke  down  again  in  1450,  during  the  marriage  festa 
of  the  Marquis  of  Ferrara.  The  present  stone  bridge  was 
begun  by  Antonio  da  Ponte  in  1588. 

From  the  Ponte  di  Rialto  it  is  well  to  proceed  by  gondola 
or  by  steamboat  to  the  Accademia  Station.  After  crossing  the 
iron  bridge  there  into  the  Campo  di  S.  Vitale,  we  come  to  the 
Church  of  S.  Vitale,  which  was  founded  in  1084  by  the  Doge 
Vitale  Falier,  rebuilt  in  1105,  and  again,  as  we  see  it,  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  It  contains  behind  the  High  Altar  a 
precious  work  by  Carpaccio  of  S.  Vitale  on  horseback.  There 
we  see  the  Saint  in  full  armour  mounted,  with  S.  Valeria,  his 
wife,  and  S.  George,  on  one  side,  and  S.  James  and  S.  John 
Baptist  on  the  other.  Above,  on  a  balcony  over  a  fine  arcade 
through  which  we  see  again  a  fair  country-side,  stand  S.  Vitale's 
two  sons  with  their  guardians,  S.  Peter  and  S.  Andrew  j  in  the 
sky  appear  in  glory  the  Virgin  and  Child. 

Beyond  S.  Vitale  the  Campo  Morosini  opens.  It  is  named 
after  the  famous  Francesco  Morosini,  but  was  of  old  called 
and  is  still  better  known  as  Campo  di  S.  Stefano,  for  S. 
Stephen's  Church  stands  within  it.  The  bullfights  were  held 
in  this  Piazza  in  Carnival,  the  last  in  1802. 


SESTIERE  DI  S.   MARCO  115 

The  first  Church  of  S.  Stephen,  with  its  Augustinian  convent, 
was  built  here  in  1294,  but  not  finished  till  the  earlier  years 
of  the  fourteenth  century,  when  the  lovely  door  of  the  facade 
was  made.  The  interior  is  charming  and  spacious.  Over  the 
beautiful  doorway  is  the  equestrian  statue  of  the  Doge  Con- 
tarini,  a  work  of  the  seventeenth  cetury ;  far  finer,  however,  is 
the  sixteenth-century  tomb  of  Jacopo  Suriano  the  physician 
close  by.  Another  seventeenth-century  Doge,  the  famous 
general  who  now  names  the  Campo,  lies  beneath  the  pave- 
ment of  the  nave.  In  the  choir  are  two  saints  by  Bar- 
tolommeo  Vivarini,  exquisite  fair  works.  There,  too,  are  some 
admirable  statues  by  some  pupil  of  Pietro  Lombardo,  fifteenth- 
century  work. 

More  delightful,  however,  than  anything  in  the  church  are 
the  cloisters,  which  are  contemporary  with  the  church  and 
convent,  but  were  restored  in  1532. 

From  S.  Stefano  we  pass  back  into  the  piazza  and  then  to 
the  left  to  the  Campo  di  S.  Maurizio,  with  its  church  of  very 
ancient  foundation,  which,  however,  contains  nothing  to 
interest  us.  Thence  we  proceed  straight  on  past  S.  Maria 
Zobenigo,  a  church  founded  in  900  and  rebuilt  by  Sardi 
in  1680  at  the  expense  of  Rome,  Corfu,  Padua,  Candia, 
Spalatro,  and  Pavia,  whose  plans  we  see  on  the  facade.  Con- 
tinuing on  our  way  across  the  bridges,  we  come  to  the  Campo 
di  S.  Moise,  where  that  church  of  most  ancient  foundation, 
formerly  dedicated  to  S.  Vittore,  offends  the  critical  with  its 
hideous  facade.  The  old  church  was  built  by  Moise  Venier 
in  the  tenth  century ;  the  fagade,  however,  is  the  work  of 
Alessandro  Tremignan,  and  was  rebuilt  at  a  cost  of  30,000 
ducats.  A  Scotsman  lies  within,  John  Law  by  name,  the 
famous  financier,  who  died  in  Venice  in  some  poverty  in 
1729. 

From  S.  Moise  we  pass  into  the  narrow  way  that  brings 
us  immediately  back  into  the  Piazza  di  S.  Marco. 


VII 
SESTIERE    DI    CANNAREGIO 

S.  CANCIANO — S.  MARIA  DEI  MIRACOLI — SS.  APOSTOLI — FONDA- 

MENTA     NUOVA  —  CASA     DEGLI      SPIRITI  —  I      GESUITI 

S.  CATERINA — S.  FELICE — PALAZZO  GIOVANELLI — S.  MAR- 
ZIALE— MADONNA  DEL  ORTO — S.  GIOBBE — THE  SCALZI — 
PALAZZO   LABIA — S.    MARCUOLA 

THE  Sestiere  di  Cannaregio  includes  all  that  part  of  Venice 
to  the  north  of  the  Grand  Canal  between  the  railway 
station  and  SS.  Giovanni  and  Paolo  and  S.  Giovanni 
Crisostomo.  Here  we  have  a  great  district,  through  which 
passes  the  Cannaregio  and  in  which  of  old  the  Ghetto  stood, 
but  which  is  to-day,  I  suppose,  the  part  of  Venice  least  fre- 
quented by  the  stranger  and  the  poorest  in  great  churches 
and  monuments,  yet  it  includes  the  SS.  Apostoli,  the  Gesuiti, 
S.  Maria  dei  Miracoli,  the  Palazzo  Giovanelli,  the  whole  stretch 
of  the  Fondamenta  Nuova,  the  Madonna  del  Orto,  S.  Mar- 
cuola,  S.  Felice,  to  say  nothing  of  the  broadest  thoroughfare 
in  Venice,  the  Via  Vittorio  Emanuele.  The  Palaces  on  that 
part  of  the  Grand  Canal  in  this  district  include  the  Palazzo 
Vendramin  and  the  Ca  d'  Oro,  and  are  in  no  way  either  in 
number  or  splendour  inferior  to  those  in  any  other  part  of 
Venice.  Yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that  this  is  the  poorest  of  the 
sestieri  to  the  north  of  the  Grand  Canal,  and  that  in  its  general 
character  it  may  be  better  compared  with  the  southern  sestieri 
than  with  either  S.  Marco  or  Castello. 

In  order  to  explore  this  wide  region  one  does  well  to  set  out 

116 


SESTIERE  DI  CANNAREGIO  117 

from  the  Piazza  di  S.  Marco  for  the  Rialto  either  by  steamer, 
gondola,  or  on  foot  by  the  Merceria.  Arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
Rialto  bridge  in  the  Piazza  di  S.  Bartolommeo  with  its  statue  of 
Goldoni,  one  follows  the  Merceria,  or  rather  the  continuation 
of  it,   past  S.  Giovanni  Crisostomo,  when,  after  crossing  a 
canal,  one  turns  sharply  to  the  right  to  come  in  a  few  minutes 
into  the  Campo  di  S.  Canciano  before  the  church  of  that 
name.     This  church  is  supposed  to  have  owed  its  foundation 
to  the  fugitives  from  Aquileia;   but  as   we  see  it,  it   is,   of 
course,  of  much   later  foundation,  the  facade,  for  instance, 
dating  from  1760.     Nothing  of  interest  remains  within  the 
church,  but  close  by  at  the  other  end  of  the  Campo  stands 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  architectural  treasures  of  the  city — 
I  mean  the  church  of  S.  Maria  dei  Miracoli.     This  was  built 
in  1480  by  Angelo  Amadi,  the  nephew  of  Elena  Badoer,  "the 
most  beautiful  Venetian  of  her  day,"  who  lived  close  by  in 
this  quarter.     He  built  it  to  receive  a  picture  of  the  Madonna 
supposed  to  be  miraculous,  which  Francesco  Amadi,  his  uncle, 
the  husband  of  the  beautiful  Elena,  had  painted,  concerning 
which  there  was  a  considerable  litigation.     For  it  seems  that 
in  order  to  satisfy  the  crowds  who  came  to  worship  it,  this 
picture  had  been  hung  in  a  shrine  built  into  the  wall  of  a 
house  here  belonging  to  the  Barozzi,  so  that  in  time  they 
claimed  possession  of  the  picture.     It  was  for  this  reason  that 
Angelo  Amadi,  when  the  case  was  won,  built  the  church  of 
S.  Maria  dei  Miracoli  by  the  hands  of  Pietro  Lombardo  to 
house  the  picture,  which  was  still  venerable.   There  is  no  other 
Renaissance  church  in  Venice  to  compare  with  this;   both 
within  and  without  it  is  altogether  lovely,  nor  can  we  suf- 
ficiently praise  its  quadrangular  domed  choir  uplifted  above 
the  nave,  its  beautiful  ambones,  the  fine  barrel  vaulting  with 
its  gilded  coffers  by  Girolamo  da  Treviso,  nor  the  rich  marble 
and  carvings  with  which  Pietro  Lombardo  adorned  it. 

Returning  past  S.  Canciano  westward  over  the  Ponte 
S.  Canciano  through  the  Morosini  quarter,  where  that  great 
family  had  so  many  of  its  houses,  from  the  Palazzo  Falier, 
where  Doge  Marino  Falier  had  his  house,  to  SS.  Apostoli, 


n8  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

a  church  founded  by  S.  Magno,  as  the  tradition  tells  us,  at 
the  request  of  the  twelve  Apostles,  who  appeared  to  him  in  a 
vision  and  bade  him  build  a  church  in  their  honour  where  he 
should  observe  twelve  cranes  to  assemble.  This  early  build- 
ing, if  it  ever  existed,  had  totally  disappeared  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  when  another  church  was  built  here,  to  be  itself 
destroyed  and  rebuilt  in  the  eighteenth  century,  and,  indeed, 
all  that  remains  of  the  sixteenth-century  church  is  the  chapel 
of  the  Corner  family.  Two  pictures  of  much  interest  and 
beauty  remain  there:  an  altarpiece  of  the  Communion  of 
S.  Lucy,  an  exquisite  but  restored  work  by  Tiepolo,  and  to 
the  left  of  the  choir  a  work  by  Paolo  Veronese,  the  Manna  in 
the  Wilderness. 

It  is  here  by  SS.  Apostoli  that  we  enter  that  broad  way,  the 
Corso  Vittorio  Emanuele,  which  was  opened  in  1871-1872. 
Here  on  the  right  is  the  church  of  S.  Sofia,  of  an  old  founda- 
tion, rebuilt  in  1698.  We  pass  the  backs  of  the  Palazzi 
Sagredo  and  Ca  d'  Oro,  and  then  on  the  right  a  Campo  opens, 
into  which  we  turn.  Quite  at  the  end  of  it  we  turn  left  and 
then  right,  and  keep  on  our  way  till  after  crossing  two  canals 
we  come  presently  out  on  the  Fondamenta  Nuova.  These 
splendid  quays  were  built  of  stone  in  1589,  when  this  part  of 
Venice  was  thought  to  be  wonderfully  healthy  and  was  much  fre- 
quented.1 To-day  it  is  quite  deserted  by  the  well-to-do  classes, 
and  is  delivered  over  to  the  poor,  but  even  they  do  not  seem 
to  care  for  it,  and  the  place  is  neglected.  It  looks  on  the 
cemetery  island  and  beyond  to  Murano,  and  it  is  from  here 
that  the  steamers  ply  to  Murano,  Burano,  and  Torcello.  At 
the  end  of  the  Fondamenta  where  we  stand  we  see  across  the 
waters  of  the  Sacca  della  Misericordia  the  Casino  degli  Spiriti, 
a  lovely  building  that  stands  in  the  garden  of  the  Contarini 
del  Zaffo,  and  was  built  by  them  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  is  said  and  believed  by  all  Venice  to  be  haunted. 
And,  in  fact,  there  is  something  strange  and  weird,  if  only  in 
the  extraordinary  echo  that  haunts  the  house  and  garden  so 
that  you  cannot  wander  there  without  hearing  sudden  breath- 
1  Cf.  H.  A.  Douglas,  op.  cit.t  p.  208. 


SESTIERE   DI  CANNAEEG10  119 

less  voices  that  doubtless  by  some  trick  of  nature  or  of  art 
come  from  the  Fondamenta,  which  yet  ever  seems  too  far 
away  for  any  voice  to  be  borne  thence  to  this  lonely  and 
deserted  abode.  The  story  goes  that  long  and  long  ago  one 
of  the  Contarini  lived  here  with  his  wife,  who  bore  him  a  child, 
to  whom  his  friend  who  had  acted  as  groomsman  at  his  wed- 
ding stood  as  godfather  or  compare  di  S.  Giovanni^  a  relationship 
only  less  close  and  sacred  than  that  of  father.  Now  it  hap- 
pened that  by  and  by  the  lady  and  the  co?npare  fell  violently  in 
love,  and  as  this  relationship  was,  even  in  Venetian  society, 
impossible,  being  indeed  a  kind  of  incest,  all  three — for  the 
husband  was  aware  of  it — lived  in  complete  misery.  In  this 
misery  the  lover  died,  perhaps  by  his  own  hand,  and  hearing 
this  and  missing  him  the  lady  died  also.  At  the  point  of  death 
she  called  to  her  her  maid  and  bade  her  see  that  none  but 
she  should  watch  beside  her  bier,  and  when  she  was  assured 
of  this  she  sighed  a  little  and  briefly  departed.  Now  as  the 
maid  watched  beside  her  dead  mistress,  the  room  being 
lighted  by  four  torches,  one  at  each  corner  of  the  bed,  as 
she  mumbled  her  prayers,  even  at  midnight,  the  door  opened, 
and  she  saw  the  lover  enter  slowly  and  softly  as  ghosts  move. 
She  saw  him  go  to  the  bed  where  her  dead  lady  lay  and  raise 
her  up.  And  she  rose,  and  saying  nothing,  began  to  dress ; 
then  taking  her  by  the  hand,  the  ghost  led  the  way,  the 
lady  followed,  and  the  maid,  seizing  a  torch,  followed  also  to 
see  what  would  befall.  And  they  went  down  into  the  roots  of 
the  house  to  the  last  and  coldest  cellar.  There  suddenly  the 
lover  struck  the  torch  from  the  maid's  hand  and  she  fell  down 
in  a  swoon.  Such  is  the  tale.  But  there  are  good  reasons 
why  the  Casa  degli  Spiriti  should  be  reputed  haunted  without 
pinning  our  faith  to  such  a  poor  story  as  that.  To  begin  with, 
it  is  lonely  and  set  in  a  misty  world  that  is  often  lost  in  the 
fog  of  the  half-dead  lagoon  when  the  other  side  of  Venice  is  in 
the  sun.  Then  for  many  years  the  Venetians  were  wont  to 
rest  their  dead  just  here  on  their  way  to  S.  Michele,  and 
beside  all  this,  it  is  known  to  have  been  a  haunt  of  smugglers 
for  many  years — of  smugglers  who  would  use  all  their  in- 


120  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

genuity  to  invent,  or  to  encourage  belief  in,  such  a  story  as 
that  I  have  set  out  above.  None  of  these  tales,  however,  would 
seem  to  explain  the  fact  that  even  to-day  and  in  the  sunlight 
the  Casa  degli  Spiriti  is  a  weird  and  curious  place  where,  as 
you  make  your  way  through  garden  or  house,  you  will  often 
be  astonished  by  a  voice  at  your  elbow,  by  a  step  at  your  side 
for  which  you  will  most  assuredly  be  at  a  loss  to  account. 

As  one  passes  along  the  Fondamenta  one  presently  sees  the 
great  statues  of  the  facade  of  the  Church  of  the  Gesuiti  up 
against  the  sky.  It  is  but  a  step  down  a  street  on  the  right 
to  the  church  door.  As  we  see  it,  the  church  could,  I  sup- 
pose, have  been  created  by  no  one  but  the  Jesuits;  it  is 
so  utterly  barbarous  in  its  flaming  vulgarity  and  crude,  in- 
solent assurance,  its  flamboyant  splendour.  But  there  was 
a  church  here  in  the  twelfth  century  which  belonged  to  the 
Crociferi.  The  place  was  bought  in  1657  on  the  second 
expulsion  of  the  Crociferi  by  the  Jesuits,  who  rebuilt  the 
church  as  we  see  it.  Their  society  was  suppressed  in  1773 
in  Venice  and  their  convent  turned  into  a  barracks.  They 
returned,  however,  in  1844.  Like  the  cancer,  to  which 
Cardinal  Manning  likened  them,  they  are  hard  to  extirpate, 
yet  with  perseverance  even  this  will  be  accomplished,  and 
the  Church  from  being  a  Jesuit  sect  become  once  more 
Catholic.  There  is  not  much  now  in  the  church  to  attract  us. 
Of  old,  Tintoretto's  Presentation  in  the  Temple  hung  here, 
but  it  has  been  carried  away  to  the  Accademia.  There  still 
remain,  however,  in  the  left  transept  an  Assumption  from  nis 
hand,  and  better  still,  in  the  first  chapel  on  the  left  in  the 
nave,  a  dark,  spoilt  work  of  Titian's,  the  Martyrdom  of 
S.  Lorenzo,  painted  in  1538.  This  picture  was  ordered,  as 
is  supposed,  by  Elisabetta,  widow  of  Lorenzo  Massolo,  to 
decorate  the  chapel  her  husband  had  built  to  S.  Lorenzo 
in  the  convent  of  the  Crociferi  in  Venice.  Nothing  can 
be  made  of  this  once  splendid  work  to-day.  In  the  chapel 
on  the  left  of  the  High  Altar  in  this  church  the  Doge  Pasquale 
Cicogna  (1595)  is  buried;  his  tomb  is  adorned  with  his 
statue   by  Campagna.     Close  by  the  Gesuiti  is  the  Church 


SESTIERE  DI  CANNAREGIO  121 

of  S.  Caterina,  where  over  the  High  Altar  is  a  splendid 
and  enchanting  work  by  Paolo  Veronese,  the  Marriage  of 
S.  Catherine. 

From  S.  Caterina  we  return  to  the  Corso  Vittorio 
Emanuele,  and  follow  it  across  the  Rio  di  S.  Felice,  the 
broad  canal  in  which  is  the  island  where  the  Church  of  S. 
Felice  stands,  a  church  founded  in  the  tenth  century, 
rebuilt  in  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth.  Keeping  straight  on 
across  another  canal,  we  have  before  us  on  our  right  the 
Palazzo  Giovanelli,  £  very  noble  building,  now  including  three 
old  Palaces — Palazzi  Priuli,  Urbino,  and  Gemiani.  The 
principal  of  these  was  the  Palazzo  Urbino,  built  originally 
in  the  thirteenth  century  by  Filippo  Calendario.  In  1538  the 
Republic  gave  it  to  Francesco  Maria,  Duke  of  Urbino, 
whom  they  had  employed  with  his  troops  in  their  wars  with 
the  Pope  and  Milan.  He  proved  a  successful  general,  and 
among  the  other  gifts  and  honours  rendered  him  by  a  grateful 
Republic  was  this  Palace.  It  seems  that  he  was  escorted  from 
Padua  to  the  Rialto  by  sixty  young  men  sent  by  the  Republic 
to  meet  him.  Arrived,  he  was  welcomed  by  the  Doge,  the 
foreign  ambassadors,  and  the  people,  and  was  led  on  board 
the  Bucentauro,  a  rare  honour.  "  Thus,  amid  a  flotilla  of  state 
galleys  and  gondolas  crowded  with  a  lively  population  in 
gala  attire,  they  conducted  their  princely  guest  along  the 
Grand  Canal,  its  palaces  glittering  with  brocades  and  arrases, 
its  windows  radiant  with  women.  .  .  ." l  So  they  gave 
him  the  palace  which  in  1548  was  the  scene  of  his  son's, 
Guidobaldo  II,  marriage  to  Vittoria  Farnese,  the  Pope's 
niece.  In  1560  Jacopo  Sansovino  restored  the  Palace,  which, 
however,  did  not  remain  in  the  hands  of  the  Urbino  Dukes, 
but  passed  to  the  Dona  family  by  purchase ;  they  in  the 
seventeenth  century  passed  it  on  to  the  Giovanelli,  who 
still  hold  it  and  its  treasures.  Undoubtedly  the  greatest  of 
these  is  the  picture  by  Giorgione,  which  has  passed  under 
various  names — the  Family  of  Giorgione,  or  simply  the  Gipsy 
and   the   Soldier — and  which   in   itself  sums  up  all  that  we 

1  Dennistoun's  "  Dukes  of  Urbino,"  ed.  Hutton  (Lane),  vol.  ii,  p.  431. 


122  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

mean  by  the  Giorgionesque  in  painting.  There  we  see,  in  a 
delicious  landscape  of  green  and  shady  valley,  of  stream 
and  ruin  and  towered  country  town,  a  woman  nude  but  for 
a  cape  about  her  shoulders  giving  her  breast  to  her  child 
in  the  shadow  of  the  trees  by  a  quiet  stream.  On  the  other 
side  of  this  jewelled  brook  a  young  man  like  a  soldier — or 
is  it  a  shepherd  ? — stands  resting  on  a  great  lance  or  crook  and 
seems  to  converse  with  her.  Close  by  are  the  ruins  of  some 
classical  building  overgrown  by  moss  and  lichen,  and  half  hidden 
in  the  trees,  and  not  far  off  up  the  stream  in  the  sunset  we  see 
the  towers  and  walls  and  roofs  and  domes  of  a  little  town 
with  its  bridge  across  the  stream  leading  to  the  great  old 
fortified  gate  of  the  place.  But  what  chiefly  attracts  us  in 
the  work  is  something  new  we  find  there,  an  air  of  golden 
reality,  something  dreamlike  too,  though  wholly  of  this  our 
world,  an  air  of  music  which  seems  to  come  to  us  from 
the  noise  of  the  brook  or  the  summer  wind  in  the  trees, 
or  the  evening  bells  that  from  far  off  we  seem  to  hear 
ring  Ave  Maria.  One  of  the  golden  moments  of  life  has 
been  caught  here  for  ever  and  perfectly  expressed.  Heaven, 
it  seems,  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  is  really  to  be  found  in  our 
midst,  and  Giorgione  has  contrived  a  miracle  the  direct  opposite 
of  that  of  Angelico  ;  for  he  found  all  the  flowers  of  Tuscany  and 
the  byways  of  the  world  in  far-off  Paradise,  but  Giorgione 
has  found  Paradise  itself  here  in  our  world.  And  we  must 
remember  that  such  a  work  as  this  was  the  true  invention  of 
Giorgione.  Before  him  there  was  nothing  but  Church  pictures. 
It  is  to  him  we  owe  these  pieces  which  have  nothing  directly 
to  do  with  religion,  but  were  painted  to  light  up  the  rooms 
we  live  in,  to  bring  the  sun,  if  you  will,  into  a  cabinet 
and  all  the  sunset  and  the  quiet  out-of-doors  into  a  rich  man's 
study.  Here,  in  truth,  we  have  "  humanism  "  in  its  essence, 
and  for  once  perfectly  understood  and  expressed.  For 
humanism  does  not  consist  in  learning,  or  indeed  in  anything 
but  itself  :  in  the  wellbeing  of  man  and  his  brotherhood  with 
nature  and  with  his  fellows,  in  the  beauty  and  quietness 
and    long-established    order    of    the    world   he   has   made, 


*  »,   •   » 


THE   SOLDIER   AND   THE   GYPSY 

GIORGIONE 
(Palazzo  Giovanelli) 


SESTIERE  DI  CANNAREGIO  123 

in  his  pleasure,  most  truly  religious,  in  such  an  hour  or  in 
such  a  work  as  this.  This  vision  of  Giorgione's,  this  view 
of  culture  and  of  life,  in  some  sort  came  to  leaven  all  the 
work  of  the  young  Titian  and  the  young  Tintoretto,  the 
great  painters  not  only  of  Venice  but  of  Europe  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  It  is  true  that  they  forsook  this  perfection 
for  something  more  real,  more  passionate,  more  disastrous, 
and  that  they  came  to  cling  closer  to  mere  life  in  their  work 
than  Giorgione,  who  died  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  had  been 
able  or  was  prepared  to  do.  Yet  when  we  are  weary  of 
the  tragic  and  confused  work  in  the  Scuola  di  S.  Rocco, 
when  Titian's  Assumption  seems  at  last  almost  insincere  in 
its  extraordinary  achievement,  we  return  with  ever  new 
enthusiasm  and  pleasure  to  the  work  that  they  have  achieved 
in  Giorgione's  spirit  and  with  something  of  his  vision — in  the 
Concert  of  the  Pitti,  for  instance,  or  the  Madonna  with 
S.  Bridget  and  S.  Ulphus  of  Madrid,  in  the  Bacchus  and 
Ariadne  of  the  Ducal  Palace  or  the  Mercury  with  the  Graces 
in  the  same  Hall,  where,  if  we  find  something  harder  and 
more  brilliant,  we  shall  discern,  too,  still  that  spirit  of  music, 
that  air  of  wellbeing,  quietness  and  delight  which,  in  its 
perfect  essence,  we  find  alone,  I  think,  in  the  work  of 
Giorgione  himself,  and  especially  in  this  masterpiece  belong- 
ing to  Prince  Giovanelli. 

Just  behind  the  Palazzo  Giovanelli  stands  the  Church 
of  S.  Fosca,  a  fine  building  of  the  sixteenth  century.  We 
pass  out  of  the  Campo  di  S.  Fosca  by  a  bridge  on  the  right, 
and  keeping  straight  on  cross  another  bridge  which  brings 
us  into  the  Campo  di  Marciliano  or  S.  Marziale.  The 
church  here  was  built  in  the  fourteenth  century  and  restored 
in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth.  It  was  far  more  famous 
of  old  than  it  is  to-day,  for  in  memory  of  the  great  victories 
gained  on  the  day  of  S.  Marziale  the  Doge  used  to  visit 
the  church  in  state  on  1  July.  It  still  holds  a  miracle 
picture  of  the  Madonna  which  came  of  itself  by  sea  to  Venice 
from  Rimini ;  but  its  great  treasure  is  the  picture  of  Tobias 
and  the  Angel  by  Titian.     Vasari  says  that  Titian  painted  this 


i24  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

work  in  1507,  "at  the  time  of  the  war  of  the  Emperor  Maxi- 
milian, as  he  himself  tells  us."  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle, 
however,  contradict  Vasari,  and  attribute  this  picture  to  the 
years  15 34-1 5 38.  Gronau,  again,  seems  to  desire  to  give  it  a 
later  birth  still,  and  speaks  of  the  years  1 540-1 543.  He 
finds  points  of  contact  between  this  work  and  the  Annuncia- 
tion in  the  Scuola  di  S.  Rocco.  It  is  a  work  of  some  charm, 
and  certainly  more  delightful  than  the  S.  Marziale  with 
SS.  Peter  and  Paul  over  the  second  altar  to  the  right,  which 
was  the  last  work  of  Tintoretto.  But  if  we  would  see  Tinto- 
retto nearly  at  his  best  as  a  religious  painter,  we  must  proceed 
from  S.  Marziale  due  north,  as  directly  as  we  may,  to  the 
Madonna  dell'  Orto,  where  several  of  his  works  remain. 

This  church,  originally  dedicated  to  S.  Cristoforo,  with  the 
convent  attached  to  it,  was  founded  by  Tiberio  da  Parma  in 
the  fourteenth  century.  Its  dedication  was  changed  by  reason 
of  a  miracle  image  of  the  Madonna  and  Child,  now  in  the 
sacristy,  that  was  found  in  a  garden  hard  by,  and  removed  to 
the  church.  The  place  has  passed  through  many  vicissitudes 
even  in  our  time.  What  we  see  is  a  building  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  but  that  was  not  the  first  church,  which  is  spoken  of 
as  being  rebuilt  even  in  the  fourteenth.  In  1855  it  was  sup- 
pressed and  turned  into  a  stable,  but  was  reconsecrated  in 
1869.  It  contains  several  works  by  Tintoretto,  whose  house 
was  not  far  away  on  the  Fondamenta  dei  Mori.  Perhaps  the 
loveliest  picture  here,  however,  is  the  S.  John  Baptist,  with 
SS.  Peter,  Mark,  Jerome,  and  Paul,  by  Cima.  This  is  a  very 
characteristic  work,  full  of  a  quiet  love  of  nature,  of  flowers, 
and  green  leaves.  Close  by  is  the  seventeenth-century  monu- 
ment of  Girolamo  Gavazza,  and  beside  the  fourth  altar  is  a 
picture  by  Francesco  Beccaruzzi,  a  painter  who  imitated  all 
his  great  predecessors,  of  Four  Saints  and  Lorenzo  Giustiniani. 
Over  the  door  of  the  sacristy  is  an  interesting  fifteenth-century 
bust  of  the  Blessed  Virgin. 

In  the  choir  Tintoretto  lies  under  his  great  Last  Judgment 
and  Adoration  of  the  Golden  Calf,  two  of  his  best  religious 
paintings,  two  early  works  which  Ruskin  has  most  eloquently 


SESTIERE   DI  CANNAREGIO  125 

praised,  and  which  should  be  compared  with  the  same 
painter's  Presentation  in  the  Temple,  a  dramatic  work  of  the 
same  period  in  the  second  chapel  here  in  the  north  aisle. 
Over  the  High  Altar  is  an  Annunciation  by  Palma  Giovane. 

In  the  Contarini  chapel,  in  the  north  aisle,  amid  the  busts 
of  members  of  that  famous  family,  is  a  fine  work  by  Tinto- 
retto, the  Miracle  of  S.  Agnes,  and  in  the  fourth  chapel  is  a 
Lotto  of  fine  colour,  a  Pieta. 

On  leaving  the  church  the  strange  Campanile  and  the  fine 
Gothic  fagade  with  its  Annunciation  and  a  statue  of  S.  Chris- 
topher by  Bartolommeo  Buon  the  elder  should  be  noted. 

We  now  make  our  way  south-west  through  the  ghettos,  past 
the  Tempio  Israelitico.  The  Ghetto  Vecchio  was  probably 
the  first  set  up  in  Italy,  but  the  second  in  the  world,  for  the 
Jews  made  the  first  themselves  when  they  enclosed  a  great  part 
of  Jerusalem  and  refused  strangers  admittance.  The  Ghetto 
Vecchio,  however,  only  dates  from  the  sixteenth  century. 
Before  that  time  the  Jews,  who  were  first  admitted  to  Venice 
in  1372,  lived  probably  in  the  Giudecca.  This  part  of  Venice 
is  still  a  huddle  of  houses,  and  in  its  own  way  extremely 
picturesque. 

Thence  we  proceed  due  west,  along  the  Cannaregio,  which 
at  last  we  leave,  to  S.  Giobbe,  a  plague  church  and  convent, 
built  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  by  Doge  Cristoforo 
Moro,  the  friend  of  S.  Bernardino.  The  church  was  restored 
in  1859,  and  still  contains  several  interesting  and  beautiful 
things,  carvings  by  Pietro  Lombardo,  reliefs  by  the  Robbia  of 
Florence,  the  tomb  in  the  choir  of  Doge  Cristoforo  Moro  and 
his  portrait  in  the  sacristy,  where,  too,  is  a  fifteenth-century 
bust  of  S.  Bernardino. 

S.  Giobbe  is  a  plague  church  dedicated  to  the  Patriarch 
Job,  who,  as  we  know,  was  plagued  with  all  manner  of 
diseases,  and  therefore  is  invoked  against  them.  For  is  it  not 
written,  "  Go  to  My  servant  Job  and  offer  up  for  yourselves  a 
burnt  offering ;  and  My  servant  Job  will  pray  for  you :  for  him 
will  I  accept "  ?  It  is  a  Franciscan  church,  situated,  as  so 
many  of  the  churches  of  this  Order  were,  in  the  poorest  and 


126  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

most  wretched  part  of  the  city  ;  here  in  Venice  close  to  the 
ghetto,  as  in  London  next  to  the  shambles.  Of  old  over 
it;s  High  Altar  stood  the  famous  Giovanni  Bellini,  now,  alas  !  in 
the  Accademia  (No.  38),  of  the  Madonna  enthroned  with  her 
Son  between  S.  Job,  S.  John  Baptist,  S.  Sebastian,  S.  Francis, 
and  S.  Louis  of  Toulouse. 

From  S.  Giobbe  we  go  south  to  the  railway  station,  and 
thence  along  the  Grand  Canal  to  the  Scalzi  Church,  built  for 
the  Carmelites  in  1656  by  Baldassare  Longhena,  a  fine  speci- 
men of  baroque  architecture.  On  the  ceiling  is  one  of  those 
surprisingly  light  and  delicious  paintings  by  Tiepolo,  the 
Miracle  of  the  S.  Croce  of  Loretto. 

We  follow  the  wide  street  past  the  front  of  the  Scalzi  till 
we  come  to  the  Campo  di  S.  Geremia,  an  eighteenth-century 
building.  The  Campo  here  was  the  place  of  bullfights.  Just 
beyond  it  stands  the  Palazzo  Labia  in  the  Cannaregio,  with 
some  fine  frescoes  by  Tiepolo  of  the  story  of  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra in  the  great  hall  on  the  first  floor.  Here  we  again  cross 
the  Cannaregio.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the  name  of  this  canale 
is  spelt  with  a  double  "  n."  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  canale, 
but  is  probably  derived  from  the  number  of  reeds,  canna, 
which  of  old  half-filled  the  way.  The  bridge  here  dates  from 
1255,  when  it  was  wood,  the  first  stone  bridge  being  of  1580. 
The  present  structure  is  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

After  crossing  the  Cannaregio  we  turn  left  to  S.  Marcuola,  on 
the  Grand  Canal.  It  is  a  church  of  early  foundation,  rebuilt 
for  the  last  time  in  the  eighteenth  century.  It  contains  an 
early  work  by  Titian  of  about  the  year  1508,  the  Child  Jesus 
with  S.  Catherine  and  S.  Andrew,  a  strange  work  that  should 
be  compared  with  Titian's  Salome  in  the  Doria  Gallery  in 
Rome. 

In  the  Campo  di  S.  Marcuola  wc  find  a  traghetto.  Here, 
then,  we  may  cross  to  the  Museo  steamer  station,  and  proceed 
thence  to  the  Piazza  di  S.  Marco,  or  set  out  thence  at  once  to 
explore  the  Sestiere  di  S.  Croce. 


I       »•  •     •  •••••?••••• 


CLEOPATRA 

TIEPOLO 
(Palazzo  Labbia,  Venice) 


VIII 
SESTIERI  DI  S.  CROCE  AND  S.  POLO 

MUSEO  CIVICO — S.  GIOVANNI  DELL'  ORIO — S.  MARIA  MATER 
DOMINI — S.  CASSIANO — S.  GIOVANNI  ELEMOSINARIO — THE 
RIALTO  —  S.  POLO  —  I  FRARI  —  SCUOLO  DI  S.  ROCCO  — 
S.   ROCCO 

THE  Sestiere  di  S.  Croce,  in  which  we  find  ourselves  at 
the  Fondaco  dei  Turchi,  now  the  Museo  Civico,  on 
the  south  of  the  Grand  Canal,  includes  none  of  the  great 
and  important  buildings  on  this  side  of  Venice,  which  as  a 
whole,  it  will  be  remembered,  is  divided,  as  is  that  part  of  the 
city  to  the  north  of  the  Grand  Canal,  into  three  parts — the 
Sestiere  di  S.  Croce,  the  Sestiere  di  S.  Polo,  and  the  Sestiere 
di  Dorsoduro.  For  our  purpose,  the  purpose  of  exploration, 
however,  we  shall  deal  with  the  Sestiere  di  S.  Polo  in  this 
chapter  with  the  Sestiere  di  S.  Croce  :  this  for  convenience. 
There  is  in  S.  Polo,  however,  enough  and  to  spare  for  a  day's 
pleasure. 

And  first  as  to  the  Fondaco  dei  Turchi,  now  the  Civic 
Museum.  This  Palace  remains  as  to  its  foundation  in  some 
obscurity,  dates  varying  from  the  tenth  to  the  thirteenth 
centuries  being  given  by  historians  as  that  of  its  inception  ; 
but  there  seems  little  doubt  that  it  was  built  by  the  Pesaro 
family.  The  earliest  date  seems,  indeed,  the  more  likely,  if 
we  may  judge,  as  I  suppose  we  may,  by  its  architecture,  which 
is  Byzantine.     In    1380  it  was    bought  by  the  Republic  for 

its  condotticre  Niccolb   d'  Este,    Marquis  of  Ferrara,   but    a 

127 


128  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

hundred  years  later  it  reclaimed  it,  and  in  1520  we  find  it  the 
residence  of  the  Papal  legates  in  Venice.  Seven  years  later 
the  House  of  Este  got  it  back,  but  they  soon  parted  with  it, 
and  after  it  had  passed  through  various  hands,  Doge 
Antonio  Priuli,  who  had  bought  it,  gave  it  to  the  Turks  for 
their  fondaco  in  the  city.  Under  the  Turks  it  suffered  much, 
but  as  far  as  might  be  it  was  restored  in  i860,  and  in  1880 
was  used  by  the  Government  as  a  museum  for  the  Correr 
Collection — a  not  very  important  collection  of  curiosities 
with  one  or  two  good  pictures — and  such  it  still  remains. 
It  always  must  have  been  one  of  the  most  venerable  buildings 
on  the  Grand  Canal,  or  indeed  anywhere  irw  Venice. 

Just  behind  the  Museo  stands  the  church  of  S.  Giovanni 
Decollato,  called  S.  Zan  Degola,  and  beyond  it,  on  the  Rio  di 
S.  Giovanni  Decollato,  the  Church  of  S.  Giacomo  dell'  Orio, 
which  was  probably  founded  in  the  tenth  century  and  rebuilt 
by  Sansovino  in  the  sixteenth.  It  has  been  restored  again  in 
our  time,  but  remains  a  curious  and  interesting  building.  It 
contains  nothing  of  very  great  interest — a  picture  of  S.  Sebas- 
tian, S.  Roch,  and  S.  Lorenzo  by  Bonconsiglio,  a  picture  by 
Francesco  Bassano  of  S.  John  Preaching,  and  a  spoilt  and  late 
work  by  Lotto,  a  Madonna  and  saints.  From  S.  Giacomo 
dell'  Orio  we  proceed  to  ;S.  Maria  Mater  Domini,  founded  in 
the  tenth  century  and  rebuilt  in  15 10,  Jprobably  by  Jacopo 
Sansovino.  It  contains  three  interesting  pictures,  besides  a 
Byzantine  relief  of  the  Madonna.  Over  the  second  altar  to  the 
right  is  the  Martyrdom  of  S.  Cristina,  painted  in  1520  by 
Catena,  a  rather  Giorgionesque  work,  in  which  we  see  in  a 
bright  landscape  S.  Cristina,  about  to  be  drowned,  the  mill- 
stone about  her  neck,  borne  up  by  angels,  while  Christ  Himself 
appears  to  comfort  her.  The  whole  work  is  charming,  though 
not  apparently  in  very  good  condition.  In  the  right  transept 
is  a  very  fine  work  by  Tintoretto,  the  Finding  of  the  Cross, 
and  opposite  a  Last  Supper  by  Bonifazio  the  second  of  that 
name. 

From  S.  Maria  it  is  but  a  step  to  S.  Cassiano,  which  also 
was  founded  in  the  tenth  century,  where  an  oratory  then  stood 


SESTIERI  DI  S.   CROCE   AND   S.   POLO    129 

dedicated  to  S.  Cecilia.  The  Campanile  is  still  a  work  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  but  the  church  is  now  of  the  seventeenth. 
Here,  too,  are  three  fine  pictures  :  a  S.  John  Baptist  with  four 
saints  in  a  lovely  landscape  by  Rocco  Marconi,  the  pupil  of 
Giovanni  Bellini  and  the  follower  of  Palma  Vecchio,  to  whom, 
in  fact,  this  work  was  long  ascribed;  a  somewhat  affected  Visi- 
tation by  Leandro  Bassano,  and  in  the  choir  a  magnificent 
picture  of  the  Crucifixion  by  Tintoretto.  The  decorative 
quality  of  this  work  is  very  striking ;  the  background  of  spears 
may  well  have  given  Velasquez  a  hint  for  his  Breda. 

We  now  make  our  way  from  S.  Cassiano  into  the  Rialto, 
past  the  fish  and  vegetable  markets.  Just  off  the  latter  stands 
the  Church  of  S.  Giovanni  Elemosinario,  usually  called 
S.  Giovanni  in  Rialto.  This  church  figures  early  in  the 
history  of  Venice,  but  the  building  we  see  dates  only  from  the 
sixteenth  century.  Its  great  treasure  is  the  picture  of  S.  John 
by  Titian,  which  he  painted  for  the  High  Altar  of  this  church 
with  an  inscription  dated  1533.  Dr.  Gronau  so  well  describes 
this  work  that  I  cannot  hope  to  better  his  words.  He  says  : 
"The  figure  of  S.  John  is  placed  high  in  the  canvas,  raised  by 
several  steps  and  towers  to  an  enormous  height,  against  a  back- 
ground of  sky  covered  by  fine  clouds.  The  Bishop,  with  a  boy  at 
his  side  bearing  a  cross,  kept  entirely  in  shadow,  is  interrupted 
while  reading  the  Bible  by  a  cripple,  who  has  crept  up  to 
him,  covered  with  rags  and  begging  for  alms.  Titian  has 
taken  the  moment  when  the  old  man  is  turning  to  hand  the 
beggar  his  gift.  The  gentle  bending  attitude  of  the  Bishop 
and  the  hopeful  upward  gaze  of  the  beggar  seem  to  unite  the 
two  figures  more  than  the  contrast  of  their  outward  appear- 
ance divides  them.  With  remarkable  artistic  audacity  Titian 
has  brought  the  broad  white  surface  of  the  Bishop's  robe  into 
the  centre  of  the  picture,  treated  with  great  freedom  in  play  of 
light  and  shade,  and  has  surrounded  it  by  a  brownish  red  in 
the  under-robe  and  collar.  The  few  colours  employed  are 
blended  in  splendid  harmony  with  the  deep  blue  of  the  sky, 
and  so  much  grandeur  is  given  to  the  picture  by  composition 
in   colour  and   outline  that   it  never  fails  to  make  a  strong 

K 


130  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

impression,  hanging  as  it  does  over  the  High  Altar  of  a 
fairly  large  church." 

Here,  too,  is  a  picture  of  Doge  Giovanni  giving  alms  by 
Rocco  Vecelli,  and  a  very  fine  Pordenone,  an  altarpiece  of 
St.  Sebastian,  S.  Roch,  and  S.  Catherine. 

So  we  pass  on  through  the  markets  to  S.  Giacomo  di 
Rialto  in  the  market-place,  probably  the  oldest  church  in 
Venice,  for  it  was  founded  in  421,  though  some  writers  have 
it  that  S.  Pantaeone  is  older.  What  we  see  in  S.  Giacomo  now, 
however,  is  alas  !  a  restoration  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
Close  by  the  church  is  a  curious  statue  of  a  hunchback, 
II  Gobbo.  This  statue,  the  work  of  Pietro  da  Salo  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  supports  a  pillar  from  which  the  laws  of  the 
Republic  were  proclaimed.  In  the  great  days  of  Venice  all 
this  district  of  the  Rialto  was  the  centre  of  her  merchandize. 
Traders  and  merchants  from  all  over  Italy,  from  Turkey 
and  the  East,  from  Spain  and  the  West  thronged  these  piazzas 
and  streets.  The  market-place  is  still  a  sufficiently  busy  and 
picturesque  spectacle,  but  it  makes  a  sorry  comparison 
doubtless  with  all  the  busy  life  that  here  had  its  centre  in 
the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries. 

From  S.  Giacomo  and  the  Ponte  di  Rialto  we  return  to 
S.  Giovanni  Elemosinario  by  the  Ruga  S.  Giovanni,  which 
we  follow  into  the  Campo  di  S.  Aponal.  The  church  here 
of  that  name  was  first  built  in  1034  and  restored  in  the 
fifteenth  century.  In  the  nineteenth  century  it  was  closed 
and  actually  sold  by  auction.  It  was  bought  by  certain 
of  the  faithful,  who  reopened  it  for  the  honour  of  God. 
Over  the  door  is  a  fifteenth-century  group  of  the  Venetian 
general,  Vittorio  Capello,  kneeling  before  S.  Elena,  by 
Antonio  Rizzi.  This  group  does  not  belong  to  this  church  of 
S.  Aponal,  but  to  the  old  Church  of  S.  Elena,  now  destroyed. 

From  the  Campo  di  S.  Aponal  we  proceed  straight  on 
across  two  canals  to  the  church  and  Campo  di  S.  Polo.  The 
Campo,  in  which  are  several  fine  palaces — Palazzo  Corner 
Mocenigo,  Palazzo  Soranzo,  of  the  fourteenth  century — is  one 
of  the  larger  Campi  of  Venice,  and  was  of  old  the  scene  of 


SESTIERI  DI  S.   CROCE   AND  S.   POLO   131 

numerous     bullfights    and   tournaments.     In   July,     1450,    a 

Friar,  in  imitation,  one  may  suppose,  of  S.  Bernardino,  was 

wont  to  preach  here,  and  here  he  lighted  a  bonfire  of  false 

hair,  sensuous  pictures,  books,  rich  clothes,  and  I  know  not 

what   else,  which   he  had  persuaded  half  Venice  to  destroy. 

The  Campo  was,  however,  the  scene  of  a  more  tragic  affair 

than   that ;  for   it   was  here  that   Lorenzino  de'  Medici,  the 

murderer    of    Duke    Alessandro    de'     Medici,    was   himself 

assassinated  by   the  hired    bravos  Cecco  Bibboni  and  Bebo 

a   Volterra.     Bibboni   gives    a    very    vivid  account   of  the 

affair,   which   Symonds   translates   in  his    "  History    of    the 

Renaissance."      It   seems  that   the  two  bravos  had  watched 

Lorenzino   go   into   the    church    from  a    cobbler's    shop  in 

the  Campo,   and   they   set   upon  him   as   he   came   out    of 

the    south    door.     "  I    saw    him    issue    from    the    church," 

says    Bibboni,    "  and    take    the    main     street ;    then    came 

(his  uncle)  Alessandro  Soderini,  and  I  walked  last  of  all ;  and 

when  we  reached  the  point  we  had  determined  on  I  jumped  in 

front   of  Alessandro   with   the  poniard  in   my  hand,  crying, 

'  Hold  hard  Alessandro,  and  get  along  with  you  in  God's  name, 

for  we  are  not  here  for  you  ! '     He  then  threw  himself  around 

my   waist   and   grasped  my  arms   and   kept   on  calling  out. 

Seeing   how  wrong  I   had  been   to   try   to   spare   his  life,  I 

wrenched  myself  as  well  as  I  could  from  his  grip,  and  with  my 

lifted  poniard  struck  him,  as  God  willed,  above  the  eyebrow, 

and  a  little  blood  trickled  from  the  wound.     He  in  high  fury 

gave  me  such  a  thrust  that  I  fell  backward,  and  the  ground 

besides  was   slippery  from  its   having  rained  a  little.     Then 

Alessandro  drew  his  sword,  which  he  carried  in  its  scabbard,  and 

thrust  at  me  in  front  and  struck  me  on  the  corselet,  which  for 

my    good  fortune  was  of  double  mail.     Before  I  could  get 

ready  I  received  three  passes,  which  had  I  worn  a  doublet 

instead  of  that  mailed  corselet  would  certainly  have  run  me 

through.     At  the  fourth  pass  I  had  regained  my  strength  and 

spirit,  and  closed  with  him  and  stabbed  him  four  times  in  the 

head,  and  being  so  close  he  could  not  use  his  sword,  but  tried 

to  parry  with   his  hand  and  hilt.     I,  as  God  willed,  struck 


132  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

him  at  the  wrist,  below  the  sleeve  of  mail,  and  cut  his  hand 
clean  off,  and  gave  him  then  one  last  stroke  on  his  head. 
Thereupon  he  begged  me  for  God's  sake  to  spare  his  life,  and 
I,  in  trouble  about  Bebo,  left  him  in  the  arms  of  a  Venetian 
nobleman,  who  held  him  back  from  jumping  in  the  canal.  .  .  . 
When  I  turned  I  found  Lorenzino  on  his  knees.  He  raised 
himself,  and  I,  in  anger,  gave  him  a  great  cut  across  the  head, 
which  split  it  in  two  pieces  and  laid  him  at  my  feet,  and  he 
never  rose  again."  That  murder,  like  so  many  political 
assassinations  of  that  time,  took  place  outside  a  church,  and 
was  excused  by  the  immorality  of  a  time  which  regarded  the 
act  of  Brutus  with  reverence  and  appealed  to  it  on  most 
occasions. 

The  Church  of  S.  Polo,  or  S.  Paolo,  was  founded  in  the  ninth 
century,  but  the  present  building  is  of  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth.  It  possesses  nothing  of  much  interest — a  relief  of 
the  twelfth  century  in  the  apse,  of  the  Madonna  and  Child 
between  S.  Peter  and  S.  Paul  with  two  angels :  almost  nothing 
else.  The  Campanile,  however,  belongs  to  the  fourteenth 
century  and  is  beautiful. 

From  the  Campo  di  S.  Polo  it  is  but  a  short  walk  across 
two  canals  to  the  great  Franciscan  church  of  Venice, 
S.  Maria  Gloriosa  dei  Frari.  The  Frari  balances  SS.  Giovanni 
e  Paolo,  the  great  Dominican  church  on  the  other  side  of 
Venice,  to  the  north  of  the  Grand  Canal.  The  Friars  Minor 
settled  in  Venice  as  early  as  1227.  They  came,  of  course,  as 
beggars,  but  by  1250  they  had  so  far  approved  themselves  to  the 
Venetians  that  they  were  able  to  begin  building  the  vast  church 
and  convent  we  see,  which  was  founded  on  the  site  of  an  old 
abbey  given  them  by  the  Benedictines,  and  was  finished  less  than 
a  century  later,  in  1338.  The  convent  is  now  the  Archivio  of 
the  city,  and  I  suppose  one  of  the  finest  in  Italy.  As  for  the 
vast  church,  it  is  from  an  architectural  point  of  view  one  of  the 
most  interesting  in  the  city.  Its  beauty  lies  chiefly  in  its 
apse,  which  is  a  great  feature  in  the  church  both  from  within 
and  without.  These  great  bare  brick  churches  of  Northern 
Italy  have,  I  think,  much  to  recommend  them  if  only  in  their 


SESTIERI  DI  S.   CROCE  AND  S.   POLO   133 

restfulness  after  the  often  glaring  marbles  of  the  Tuscan 
buildings.  But,  like  the  latter,  one  must  not  compare  them 
with  our  northern  work,  for  the  intention  of  their  builders  was 
very  different  from  ours,  and  both  were  to  a  larger  extent  than 
we  recognize  at  the  mercy  of  their  material.  No  one  will  care  to 
give  as  much  attention  to  the  mere  building  of  any  church  in 
Italy,  I  think,  nor  do  they  demand  it,  as  he  will  gladly  give  to 
Westminster  Abbey  or  Lincoln  or  Wells.  Yet  for  all  that  the 
Italian  churches  have  their  own  beauty  of  space  and  light, 
which  ours — as  we  see  them  now  at  any  rate — too  often  seem 
to  need. 

In  the  Frari,  as  far  as  the  exterior  is  concerned,  the  west  front 
has  a  fine  doorway,  surmounted  by  figures  of  the  Risen  Christ, 
the  Madonna  and  Child  and  S.  Francis.  To  the  south  stands 
the  beautiful  fourteenth-century  Campanile  of  Massegne,  and 
here,  too,  is  a  fine  Venetian  doorway,  by  which  one  usually 
enters  the  church.  Here  is  a  Madonna  and  Child  and  a 
figure  of  S.  Francis.  But  when  all  is  said  the  apse  remains  the 
finest  feature  in  any  view  of  the  building  from  outside.  Within 
in  its  vastness  the  church  reminds  us  again  of  SS.  Giovanni 
e  Paolo.  It  has  one  feature  rare  in  Italy,  but  common  in 
Spain,  and  to  be  found  in  England,  in  the  Abbey,  for  instance. 
I  mean  the  choir  is  set  west  of  the  transept,  so  that  it  fills  a 
good  part  of  the  nave.  This  is  not  easily  seen  at  present,  and 
indeed  the  whole  church  in  its  present  state  is  scarce  worth  a 
visit,  for  it  is  terribly  in  the  hands  of  the  restorers.  Most  of 
the  pictures  have  been  removed,  and  have  found  a  temporary 
resting-place  in  S.  Toma.  Our  examination,  then,  must  be 
less  thorough  than  it  would  otherwise  be.  One  enters  by  the 
door  in  the  north  aisle,  and  walking  down  the  length  of  the 
church  begins  one's  visit  with  a  tour  of  the  south  or  right 
aisle.    Such  is  the  usual  method,  and  it  is  a  good  one. 

The  holy-water  basin  here,  with  its  statue  of  Chastity — or 
Charity,  is  it  ? — with  a  lamb,  is  by  Campagna,  a  work  of  the 
end  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Close  by  is  a  vast  and  hideous 
monument  erected  in  the  first  part  of  the  nineteenth  century 
by  Ferdinand  I  to  Titian.      Beyond  the  second  altar,  with  its 


134  VENICE   AND  YENETIA 

picture  of  the  Presentation  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  by  Salviati,  is 
a  baroque  monument  to  Almerico  d'  Este,  a  general  of  the 
Republic ;  this  is  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Over  the  third 
altar  is  a  statue  of  S.  Jerome,  which  is  said  to  be  a  likeness 
of  Titian  just  before  his  death.  It  is  the  work  of  Alessandro 
Vittoria. 

We  now  pass  on  into  the  right  transept.  Here  is  the  fine 
early  Renaissance  tomb  of  Jacopo  Marcello,  a  fifteenth-cen- 
tury work  by  the  Lombardi.  Beyond  it  is  a  work  with  which 
it  perfectly  harmonizes,  a  triptych  by  Bartolommeo  Vivarini 
of  the  Madonna  and  Child  with  S.  Andrew,  S.  Nicholas, 
S.  Peter,  and  S.  Paul,  with  a  Pieta  above  between  adoring  angels 
carved  in  wood  and  gilded.  This,  like  most  of  the  other 
pictures,  can  now  be  seen  in  S.  Toma.  To  the  right,  near  the 
sacristy  door,  is  the  Gothic  monument  and  tomb  of  Beato  Fra 
Pacifico,  the  finisher,  and  in  some  ways  the  founder  almost,  of 
this  church.  It  is  a  Florentine  work  of  the  fifteenth  century. 
In  the  lunette  is  a  Baptism  of  Christ,  and  beneath  Faith, 
Hope,  and  Charity,  with  the  Resurrection  and  Christ  in 
Hades  ;  here  also  is  a  relief  of  the  Madonna  and  Child,  and  at 
the  sides  above  an  Annunciation,  painted.  This  beautiful 
tomb  of  Gothic  work  passing  into  Renaissance  is  unique  in 
Venice. 

Above  the  sacristy  door  is  the  tomb  of  Benedetto  Pesaro, 
the  Venetian  admiral,  a  sixteenth-century  work  by  Lorenzo 
Bregno.  The  figure  of  Mars  to  the  right  is  the  work  of  Baccio 
da  Montelupo,  a  Florentine.  Close  to  the  door  on  the  left  is 
a  wooden  equestrian  statue  of  Prince  Paolo  Savelli,  a  Roman 
noble,  a  work  full  of  life,  already  prophesying  the  full 
Renaissance. 

Within  the  sacristy  is  a  large  reliquary  of  the  seventeenth 
century  in  marble  with  reliefs  of  the  Passion.  Behind  a 
curtain  here  stands  a  fine  Renaissance  ciborium  with  a  relief 
of  the  Pieta  and  two  saints — S.  John  Baptist  and  S.  Francis. 
Here,  too,  stood  one  of  the  great  treasures  of  the  church,  an 
altarpiece  by  Giovanni  Bellini,  painted  in  1488,  one  of  the 
loveliest  of  his  works.     It  still  carries  its  original  Renaissance 


SESTIERI  DI  S.   CROCE  AND  S.   POLO    135 

frame.  In  the  midst  is  the  Blessed  Virgin,  enthroned,  with  her 
little  Son  standing  on  her  knee.  At  her  feet  are  two  music- 
making  angels  of  pure  delight,  while  in  the  side  panels  are 
four  splendid  saints  on  guard — S.  Peter,  S.  Nicholas,  S.  Paul, 
and  S.  Benedict.  Nothing  that  was  ever  in  the  church  can 
have  been  lovelier  than  this  quiet  altarpiece. 

Returning  to  the  church,  we  enter  the  apse.  There  are  six 
chapels  here.  In  the  second  are  two  fine  tombs  of  the  four- 
teenth century,  that  on  the  right  being  the  monument  of 
Duccio  degli  Alberti,  that  on  the  left  of  an  unknown 
knight.  These  are  splendid  works  of  art.  In  the  sanc- 
tuary itself,  over  the  High  Altar,  Titian's  Assunta,  now  in  the 
Accademia,  once  stood.  I  suppose  there  is  no  one  who  sees 
it  in  its  present  place  who  does  not  regret  that  it  was  removed 
from  this  altar  for  which  Titian  painted  it.  Here  are  the 
Gothic  tomb  of  Doge  Francesco  Foscari  on  the  right  and  the 
early  Renaissance  tomb  of  Doge  Niccolo  Tron  on  the  left. 
They  are  neither  of  them  very  satisfying  or  masterly  works. 
In  the  first  chapel,  to  the  left  of  the  High  Altar,  is  a  Madonna 
with  S.  Francis,  S.  Anthony  of  Padua,  S.  Louis  of  Toulouse, 
and  other  Franciscan  saints  by  Pordenone.  In  the  second 
chapel,  the  chapel  of  S.  Theodore,  lies  the  deposed  patron  of 
the  Republic.  The  altarpiece  is  of  carved  and  gilded  wood, 
possibly  by  the  Lombardi,  but  with  a  fine  S.  John  Baptist  by 
Donatello,  and  on  the  left  is  the  monument — one  cannot  say 
the  tomb — of  Melchior  Trevisano,  a  general  of  the  Republic 
who  died  in  1500.  In  the  third  chapel  is  a  fine  altarpiece 
of  S.  Ambrose,  for  the  chapel  was  that  of  the  Milanesi  in 
Venice,  with  S.  George  and  S.  Theodore  for  Venice, 
S.  Gregory,  S.  Augustine,  and  S.  Jerome,  S.  Sebastian,  and 
others,  with  music-making  angels  by  Alvise  Vivarini  and 
Marco  Basaiti.  Above  is  a  Coronation  of  the  Virgin  by 
some  later  hand. 

The  left  transept  is  full  of  the  glory  of  Bartolommeo 
Vivarini's  fine  triptych  of  S.  Mark  enthroned  with  S.  John 
Baptist,  S.  Jerome,  S.  Peter,  and  S.  Paul.  Thence  we  pass 
into  the  Baptistery  with  its  marble  altar  and  Madonna,  and 


136  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

four  saints  of  the  school  of  Massegne,  and  its  font  and  statue 
of  S.  John  Baptist  by  Sansovino. 

The  left  aisle  is  almost  entirely  given  over  to  the  tombs  of 
the  Pesaro  family,  which  was  the  greatest  patron  and  bene- 
factor of  the  Franciscan  Order  in  Venice.  Not  one  of  these 
tombs  is  of  any  great  beauty  or  interest,  though  none  is  so 
meaningless,  vulgar,  and  ostentatious  as  the  huge  pyramid  that 
covers  poor  Canova.  The  great  and  beautiful  thing  which 
recalls  us  to  this  aisle  of  the  Frari  again  and  again  is  Titian's 
famous  Madonna  del  Pesaro. 

It  was  in  April,  15 19,  that  Jacopo  Pesaro,  Bishop  of 
Paphos,  for  whom  Titian  had  already  painted  the  votive 
picture  now  in  the  Antwerp  Gallery,  ordered  this  great 
altarpiece  for  the  Church  of  the  Frari,  where  so  many  of 
his  family  lay.  From  then  to  May,  1526,  Titian  received 
instalments  of  his  price,  and  on  8  December  of  that  year 
a  solemn  ceremony  was  performed  as  the  picture  was  placed 
over  the  altar  the  Pesari  had  erected.  The  picture  then 
unveiled  was  one  of  the  greatest  the  young  Titian  was  to 
paint.  Under  a  vast  and  beautiful  Renaissance  arch,  through 
which  we  see  a  great  sky  full  of  snow-white  clouds,  between 
two  mighty  pillars,  the  Madonna  sits  enthroned,  her  little  Son 
standing  on  her  knee  laughing  with  and  blessing  S.  Francis, 
behind  whom  is  S.  Anthony.  Bending  a  little  to  her  right, 
Madonna  holds  her  Child  with  both  hands  gently,  firmly, 
and  receives  the  homage  of  Bishop  Jacopo,  who  is  intro- 
duced by  S.  Peter,  behind  whom  a  bearded  warrior,  leading  a 
Turk  and  a  Moor  in  chains,  uprears  the  standard  of  the 
Borgia.  On  the  right  of  the  picture  beneath  S.  Francis  kneel 
the  family  of  the  Bishop,  three  old  men,  perhaps  his  brothers, 
a  youth,  and  a  fair-haired  child  who  gazes  sweetly  out  of  the 
canvas,  while  above  one  of  those  great  white  clouds  has 
sailed  into  the  great  portico  across  the  height  of  the  pillars, 
and  upon  it,  like  children  on  a  toy  ship,  are  two  winged 
angiolini  bearing  the  cross.  I  suppose  there  is  no  other 
work  of  Titian  in  Venice  which  is  so  consummate  a  work  of 
art   or   so  wonderfully  original   a  composition  as  this.      Its 


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O    H     C 


SESTIERI  DI  S.  CROCE  AND  S.  POLO   137 

humanity  and  quietness,  the  beauty  of  its  colour  too,  its 
inexhaustible  perfection,  are  the  chief  reasons  why  one 
continually  returns  to  the  Frari. 

A  little  way  to  the  left  out  of  the  Campo  dei  Frari  stands 
the  Church  of  S.  Toma,  which  was  founded  very  long  ago,  but 
is  as  we  see  it  a  work  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  whole 
place  is  full  of  relics,  there  being  in  all  more  than  ten 
thousand,  I  believe.  Here  now  are  temporarily  conserved  the 
pictures  from  the  Frari.  Returning  to  that  great  church,  we 
find  just  behind  it  the  Church  of  S.  Rocco,  with  the  Scuola 
beside  it.  As  for  S.  Rocco  itself,  it  is  the  one  church  in 
Venice  that  is  very  difficult  to  see,  for  it  closes  early,  and  I 
have  never  yet  been  able  to  find  the  sacristan.  This,  like 
S.  Giobbe,  is  a  plague  church,  S.  Sebastiano  and  S.  Maria 
della  Salute  being  the  others  of  the  four  Venice  can  boast. 
It  was  built  in  1489  (but  rebuilt  again  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  the  facade  is  even  later)  to  receive  the  body  of 
S.  Roch,  which  some  Venetians  had  stolen  from  the  city  of 
Montpellier  because  he  was,  and  is,  for  what  I  know,  a  great 
champion  against  the  plague.  The  Scuola,  which  was  already 
in  existence,  at  once  took  the  name  of  the  Saint,  and  agreed 
to  pay  for  the  church,  and  when  they  had  seen  to  that  they 
further  decided  to  employ  Tintoretto  to  decorate  their  guild 
house,  which  he  did  during  eighteen  years,  so  that  after  the 
Ducal  Palace,  I  suppose  you  may  see  more  of  Tintoretto's  work 
in  this  scuola  than  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  It  is  usual, 
owing  to  the  growing  and  most  inhospitable  custom  of  the 
Italian  authorities  of  making  you  take  a  ticket  even  to  enter  a 
church,  to  visit  the  Scuola  first  before  the  church,  and  since 
this  is  the  custom,  let  us  abide  by  it.     The  cost  is  a  franc. 

This  great  hall  of  the  Guild  of  S.  Roch  was  built  in 
1491,  and  rebuilt  on  a  far  greater  scale  in  1516-1549. 
It  consists  of  two  great  halls,  one  above  the  other,  some 
smaller  rooms,  and  a  noble  staircase.  Practically  all  these 
are  full  of  Tintoretto's  work  —  work  which  here  especially 
won  the  enthusiastic  and  beautiful  praise  of  Ruskin,  in 
whose  prose   it  will   surely   live   for   ever.     It    might   seem 


138  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

doubtful  if  they  will  always  endure  in  themselves  or  in  the 
hearts  of  men.  No  one,  I  suppose,  who  has  ever  read  those 
overwhelming  pages  in  "The  Stones  of  Venice"  has  left  the 
Scuola  di  S.  Rocco  without  a  feeling  of  woeful  disappoint- 
ment. To  begin  with,  one  comes  there  after  seeing  the 
Palace  of  the  Doges,  after  seeing  the  Bacchus  and  Ariadne, 
therefore,  and  all  the  glory  of  the  Antecollegio.  There- 
fore one  comes,  remembering  Ruskin's  praise,  expecting  a 
similar,  if  not  a  greater  glory.  Instead,  one  passes  before 
a  vast  number  of  great  canvases,  each  one  of  which  is  as 
gloomy  as  night,  in  which  one  can  scarce  believe  the  sun 
ever  shone,  and  these  works  come  to  seem  at  last  as  full  of 
disappointment  as  the  Paradiso  of  the  Hall  of  the  Great 
Council.  Yet  no  one,  I  am  sure,  has  ever  given  himself  to 
these  great,  gloomy  canvases  without  feeling  their  strength  and 
passion,  their  sure  and  adventurous  draughtsmanship,  their 
marvellous  composition,  their  wonderful  technical  strength, 
yes,  and  their  sincerity.  But  this  is  not  enough  ;  they  may 
overwhelm  us,  and  indeed  they  do  ;  they  may  draw  from  us 
all  our  praise,  as  they  most  surely  will ;  but  when  all  has  been 
said  that  can  ever  be  said,  they  leave  us  cold,  they  do  not 
touch  our  hearts,  they  are  without  mystery  and  beauty.  What, 
after  all,  do  they  say  to  us,  these  pictures  of  the  life  of  Christ, 
of  Our  Lady,  and  of  S.  Rocco — what  do  they  mean  to  us  ? 
and  seeing  we  are  not  painters,  what  joy,  what  pleasure,  what 
delight,  do  they  bring  suddenly,  silently  into  our  hearts? 
They  tell  us  of  the  tremendous  fight  Tintoretto  had  with 
himself;  they  tell  us  of  his  vast  ambition  to  become  a  painter; 
they  tell  us  of  his  tireless  energy  and  effort  to  express  himself, 
and  of  his  almost  unbearable  success.  They  have  really 
nothing  to  do  with  Him  who  was  born  so  long  ago  : 

"With  a  brightness  in  His  bosom  that  illumines  you  and  me." 

We  are  attracted  rather  by  the  wonderful  power  of  that  scene 
of  cottage  life,  a  true  genre  picture,  realistic  and  a  little 
brutal,  in  which  a  woman  with  great  red  arms  just  out  of  the 
washing-tub  masquerades  as  Madonna.  .  .  .  But  what  need 


SESTIERI  DI  S.   CROCE  AND  S.  POLO   139 

to  go  over  them  all  ?    The  titles  are  in  every  guide-book,  only 
they  do  not  accord  with  what  we  see. 

Yet  from  this  denunciation — if  denunciation  it  be — I  would 
wish  to  withdraw  at  least  the  Crucifixion,  that  vast  and  terrible 
picture  which  hangs  in  the  Sala  dell'  Albergo.  I  can  say 
nothing  about  it ;  it  speaks  after  all  for  itself,  and  it  is  some- 
thing outside  art  and  outside  criticism.  It  has  every  quality 
I  hate  in  a  picture ;  it  is  dramatic,  full  of  unruly  and  over- 
emphasized gesture  ;  everything  is  in  confusion,  and  the  whole 
effect  is  emphasized  and  re-emphasized  by  the  chiaroscuro. 
Yet  here  at  least  I  bow  my  head.  Let  it  be  what  it  may  be 
as  a  picture,  this  is  the  Death  of  the  Son  of  God.  I  shall 
never  forget  that  group  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  with  its 
strange,  bowed  ghostly  figure,  nor  that  uplifted  victim  forgotten 
by  God. 

I  would  say,  too,  if  it  be  not  the  merest  impertinence,  that 
I  would  except  from  what  I  have  previously  said  the  Chris 
before  Pilate,  also  in  this  room,  which  seems  to  me  to  have 
much  nobility.  And  of  course  I  except  from  all  I  have  said 
with  regard  to  Tintoretto's  works  the  beautiful  Annunciation 
of  Titian  on  the  side  of  the  staircase  over  the  first  landing 
It  is  of  the  year  1545  or  thereabout,  according  to  Dr.  Gronau 
and  was  bequeathed  to  the  Scuola  by  a  lawyer  named  Aurelio 
Cortona  in  1555. 

There  is  much  work  by  Tintoretto  in  the  Church  of 
S.  Rocco,  as  well  as  a  Betrayal  of  our  Lord,  by  Titian, 
which  is  popularly  thought  to  be  miraculous. 


IX 
SESTIERE    DI    DORSODURO 

S.  PANTALEONE — CAMPO   DI    S.    MARGHERITA — THE   CARMINE — 

SCUOLA      DEL     CARMINE S.     SEBASTIANO S.     TROVASO 

I    GESUATI — THE    ZATTERE S.     MARIA     DELLA     SALUTE 

SEMINARIO    PATRIARCHALE 

F*ROM  the  church  and  Scuola  di  S.  Rocco  we  pass  across 
the  Rio  della  Frescada  into  the  Sestiere  di  Dorsoduro 
which  roughly  comprises  that  part  of  Venice  which  lies 
between  the  Fondamenta  delle  Zattere  on  the  Canal  della 
Giudecca  and  the  Grand  Canal.  Going  this  way,  we  first 
come  upon  the  Church  of  S.  Pantaleone  in  its  Campo.  This 
Campo  was  of  old  used  as  a  fish-market,  and  it  still  remains 
the  threshold  of  that  part  of  Venice  which  is,  or  seems  to  be, 
entirely  devoted  to  the  sea.  The  church  was  of  very  early 
foundation,  but  was  rebuilt  in  the  eleventh  and  again,  as  we 
now  see  it,  in  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  In  the 
second  chapel  on  the  right  is  a  mediocre  work  by  Paolo 
Veronese  of  S.  Pantaleone  healing  a  boy,  while  to  the  left  of 
the  High  Altar  is  a  fine  early  triptych  by  Giovanni  and  Antonio 
da  Murano  of  the  Coronation  of  the  Virgin. 

Crossing  the  bridge  at  the  end  of  the  Campo  over  the  Rio  Ca 
Foscari,  we  enter  the  most  democratic  of  all  the  piazzas  of 
Venice,  and,  after  the  Piazza  di  S.  Marco,  the  largest — the 
Campo  di  S.  Margherita.  The  church  which  gave  this  Campo 
its  name  was  first  built  in  836,  but  in  18 10  it  was  closed,  and 
in  1882  it  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Protestants.     There 

is   no   more   picturesque   square   in   Venice   than  this  on  a 

140 


SESTIERE  DI  DORSODURO  141 

Saturday  evening,  when  it  is  quite  filled  with  people  of  the 
poorer  classes.  Its  principal  interest  for  us,  however,  apart 
from  the  beauty  and  antiquity  of  several  of  its  palaces,  is  the 
church  at  the  far  end  of  it,  the  Carmine.  It  was  begun  in 
1298  and  finished  in  1348,  but  restored  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  it  holds  several  pictures  of  beauty  and  interest. 
Over  the  second  altar  on  the  right,  for  instance,  is  an  Adoration 
of  the  Shepherds  by  Cima  da  Conegliano,  one  of  the  finest 
things  in  Venice.  In  an  exquisite  landscape,  under  a  steep 
rock  overhung  with  trees,  at  dawn  Christ  is  born,  and 
S.  Joseph  has  brought  in  the  shepherds  to  worship  Him. 
Around  stand  various  saints  who  are  to  be  among  His 
champions  —  S.  Helena,  S.  Catherine,  and  Tobias,  with 
the  archangel  Raphael.  Far  away  many  a  little  town  is  still 
asleep,  unmindful  of  the  glad  tidings.  Over  the  fourth  altar 
is  an  early  work  by  Tintoretto,  the  Circumcision  j  while  in  the 
left  aisle,  over  the  second  altar  there,  Lotto  has  painted  an 
altarpiece,  dated  1529,  of  S.  Niccolb  with  three  angels,  and 
S.  John  Baptist  and  S.  Lucy.  Between  the  first  and  second 
altars  here  is  a  Deposition,  a  magnificent  relief  in  bronze  by 
Andrea  Verrocchio  the  Florentine.  Before  leaving,  one 
should  visit  the  cloisters. 

Close  by  the  church  is  the  Scuola  del  Carmine,  the  house 
of  a  guild  founded  in  1529.  Here  one  may  see  Tiepolo  in  all 
his  lightness  and  beauty  and  grace,  as  perhaps  nowhere  else 
in  Venice,  for  he  painted  the  ceiling  with  five  panels,  with 
the  Madonna  and  her  little  Son  in  the  midst.  The  whole  is 
nearly  as  lovely  as  the  master's  work  in  the  Palazzo  Labia. 

From  the  Carmine  we  proceed  towards  the  Zattere,  to 
S.  Sebastiano,  a  plague  church  like  S.  Giobbe  and  S.  Rocco. 
This  church  was  built  in  the  sixteenth  century  and  restored 
in  1867.  It  is  almost  entirely  decorated  by  Paolo  Veronese, 
who  is  here  buried.  S.  Sebastian  was  of  old  the  greatest  of 
all  the  plague  saints ;  and  though  the  present  church  dates 
only  from  the  sixteenth  century,  one  dedicated  in  his  honour 
was  very  early  founded  in  Venice.  The  church  was  a  founda- 
tion  of  the  Jeronymite  Order,  whose   founder,   S.   Jerome, 


142  VENICE  AND  YENETIA 

figures  in  the  decoration  as  well  as  S.  Sebastian.  Paolo 
Veronese  was  employed  by  this  Order  when  he  first  came  to 
Venice,  and  he  painted  his  Supper  in  the  House  of  Simon, 
now  in  the  Brera,  for  the  Refectory  of  this  monastery. 

But  Veronese  was  not  the  only  painter  the  Order  employed. 
Over  the  altar  of  the  first  chapel  on  the  right  we  see  a  magni- 
ficent painting  of  S.  Nicholas  by  Titian.  This  picture  bears 
the  date  1563,  and  was  painted  for  Niccolb  Crasso,  a  Venetian 
lawyer,  who  had  built  this  chapel. 

Over  the  second  altar  is  a  delightful  Madonna  and  Child 
with  S.  Anthony  of  Padua  and  S.  Catherine  of  Alexandria  by 
Paolo  Veronese.  The  S.  Anthony  is  said  to  be  a  portrait  of 
the  prior  of  the  monastery.  Over  the  third  altar  is  a  sculp- 
tured altarpiece  by  Tommaso  Lombardo,  a  sixteenth-century 
work,  while  over  the  fourth  altar  is  a  fine  and  moving 
Crucifixion  by  Veronese.  Beyond  the  pulpit  is  a  good 
Renaissance  tomb  by  Sansovino. 

The  choir  and  High  Altar  hold  three  fine  works  by  Veronese. 
Over  the  altar  is  the  Apotheosis  of  S.  Sebastian,  to  whom  the 
Madonna  appears  in  Heaven,  surrounded  by  S.  Mark  for 
Venice,  S.  Jerome  for  the  Jeronymites,  S.  John  Baptist,  and 
S.  Catherine  of  Alexandria.  To  the  right  is  his  martyrdom, 
and  to  the  left  one  of  the  poorest  works  Veronese  ever 
painted,  the  Martyrdom  of  SS.  Marcus  and  Marcellinus, 
whom  S.  Sebastian,  in  the  full  armour  of  a  Roman  soldier, 
encourages. 

Veronese  painted  the  organ  shutters  also  with  the  Purifi- 
cation of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  the  Pool  of  Bethesda,  very 
appropriate  subjects  for  this  church,  and  carried  out  in  a 
masterly  fashion.  In  the  sacristy  is  a  ceiling  picture  of  the 
Coronation  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  in  the  second  chapel 
of  the  left  aisle  a  restored  Baptism  of  Christ  by  the  same 
master.  As  though  this  were  not  enough,  Veronese  has 
covered  the  whole  church  with  magnificent  ceiling  pictures 
of  the  story  of  Esther.  This  great  man  is  buried  in  the  last 
chapel  of  the  left  aisle  in  a  modest  tomb,  over  which  a  mere 
bust  stands. 


SESTIERE  DI  DORSODURO  143 

From  S.  Sebastiano  we  pass  to  Ognissanti.  This  is  a 
Cistercian  church  with  a  convent  founded  by  some  nuns 
from  Torcello  in  1472.  It  was  first  built  of  wood,  but  in  the 
late  fifteenth  century  the  present  church  was  built.  In  1807 
both  convent  and  church  were  suppressed,  but  the  Capuchin 
sisters  from  S.  Giuseppe  di  Castello,  which  was  suppressed  at 
the  same  time,  presently  acquired  the  church,  and  made  a 
girls'  school  of  the  convent. 

A  little  farther  on  is  the  Church  of  S.  Trovaso,  an  early 
foundation  rebuilt  in  1028.  The  present  church  was  begun 
in  1584.  This  church  stands  in  the  territory  both  of  the 
Castellani  and  the  Nicolotti,  two  very  ancient  factions  into 
which  Venice  is  still  in  some  sort  divided.1  In  truth,  the 
Castellani  represented  the  democrats  of  Tesolo,  the  Nicolotti 
the  aristocrats  of  Heraclea.2  The  whole  of  Venice  is  divided 
between  them  :  the  Castellan  faction  can  claim  the  Castello, 
the  district  of  S.  Giovanni  in  Bragora,  the  district  of  S. 
Gregorio,  and  the  islands ;  the  Nicolotti  the  district  from  SS. 
Giovanni  e  Paolo  to  the  railway  station  and  back  to  the 
Accademia.  Here  at  S.  Trovaso  the  two  territories  meet. 
For  this  cause  S.  Trovaso  has  two  doors,  one  towards  the 
Nicolotti  and  one  towards  the  Castellani.  Mr.  Brown  tells 
us  that  "  if  a  Castellan  baby  is  to  be  baptized,  and  the  god- 
father chance  to  be  a  Nicolotto,  he  will  not  leave  the  church 
by  the  same  door  as  his  compare,  but  each  goes  out  by  the 
door  belonging  to  his  faction.  Matters  were  carried  even 
further  than  this ;  and  the  faction  to  which  a  foreigner  should 
belong  on  arriving  in  Venice  was  determined  for  him  by  the 
colour  of  that  quarter  where  he  first  left  his  boat.  Most  of 
those  who  now  visit  Venice  are  Castellani.  .  .  ." 

The  church  contains  three  Tintorettos — a  Last  Supper,  an 
Adoration  of  the  Magi,  and  S.  Joachim  expelled  from  the 
Temple. 

From  S.  Trovaso  it  is  but  a  step  to  the  Gesuati ;  and  that  is  a 

1  Cf.  Horatio  Brown,  '«  Life  on  the  Lagoons  "  (Rivington,  1900)  :    *'  A 
Regatta  and  its  Sequel,"  pp.  264  et  seq. 
*  Cf.  supra,  pp.  16  et  seq. 


144  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

good  way  which  takes  you  along  the  Fondamenta  delle  Zattere. 
This  long  quay  by  the  side  of  the  Giudecca  canal  was  built  in 
1 5 19,  and  gets  its  name  from  the  wood  rafts  (zatte)  which 
were  moored  along  this  shore.  Across  the  water  lies  the 
island  of  the  Giudecca  with  its  great  Palladian  churches  of 
the  Zitelle,  the  Redentore,  and  S.  Eufemia.  It  is  from  the 
Redentore  to  the  Zattere  that  the  wooden  bridge  is  built  on 
the  third  Sunday  in  July  for  the  procession  in  honour  of  the 
Precious  Blood. 

As  for  the  Gesuati,  the  sons  of  Blessed  Giovanni  Columbini 
of  Siena,  they  were  suppressed  by  Clement  IX  in  1688,  and 
the  present  church  and  convent  which  bear  their  name  were 
built  by  the  Dominicans  and  dedicated  to  Madonna  del 
Rosario  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Tiepolo  has  painted  the 
ceiling,  therefore,  with  the  Institution  of  the  festival  of  the 
Rosary  and  a  Vision  of  Madonna  and  Apotheosis  of  S. 
Dominic.  Over  the  first  altar  to  the  right,  too,  we  find  a 
delightful  altarpiece  by  the  same  master  of  the  Madonna 
and  Child  with  three  Dominican  nuns.  By  the  third  altar 
to  the  left  is  a  Crucifixion  by  Tintoretto. 

From  the  Gesuati  we  follow  along  the  Zattere  past  the  Scuola 
dello  S.  Spirito,  which  was  founded  in  the  adjoining  church  in 
1492  and  is  now  a  tobacco  store,  to  the  church  and  convent 
dello  Spirito  Santo.  The  church  was  founded  by  Maria 
Caroldo,  who  was  the  first  superior  of  the  convent  close 
by,  which  she  also  built. 

Here  we  leave  the  Zattere  and  proceed  north  towards  the 
Grand  Canal  and  S.  Maria  della  Salute. 

In  S.  Maria  della  Salute  we  have  the  typical  plague  church 
of  the  city.  It  was  built  in  gratitude  to  the  Madonna  of 
Health,  who,  so  the  Venetians  believed,  had  freed  them  from 
the  last  and  the  greatest  pestilence,  that  of  1631,  which  endured 
for  sixteen  months  and  carried  off  some  140,000  persons. 
Venice  was  particularly  open  to  the  plague.  The  great 
commercial  city  of  Central  Europe,  she  was  always  in  contact 
with  the  East  and  with  the  infection.  More  than  once, 
notably  in  1348,  and  in  1571  when  Titian  was  carried  off  by 


SESTIERE  DI  DORSODURO  145 

the  pestilence  in  his  ninety-ninth  year,  she  was  hard  put  to  it 
to  carry  on  her  government,  so  many  died  within  her  dominion. 
That  attack  in  1571,  however,  which  had  seen  the  building  of 
the  Redentore  and  the  institution  of  a  great  festival  and  proces- 
sion that  in  some  sort  still  endures,  was  less  terrible  in  every 
way — in  its  duration  as  in  the  number  of  its  victims — than 
that  of  1 63 1.  This  last  pestilence  stopped  suddenly  in 
November,  1631,  after  a  vow  had  been  made  by  the  Doge 
that  the  Republic  would  build  a  church  to  Madonna  della 
Salute  if  she  would  deliver  them.  The  Republic  observed 
its  promise.  A  splendid  church  was  immediately  planned,  a 
public  competition  was  arranged,  and  by  its  means  Longhena, 
a  Venetian,  a  follower  of  Palladio,  was  chosen  as  architect. 
Meanwhile  a  wooden  and  temporary  oratory  was  built  upon  a 
piece  of  land  which  the  Knights  Templar  had  bestowed  on 
the  Republic.  A  bridge  of  boats  was  built  across  the  Grand 
Canal,  and  on  28  November  the  Doge,  the  Senate,  the 
nobles,  and  the  people  went  in  state  and  in  procession  from 
S.  Marco  to  hear  Mass.  "The  letter  of  a  contemporary,"  says 
Mr.  Horatio  Brown,  "tells  us  that  the  day  was  cloudlessly  fine; 
and  we  see  this  long  procession  filing  across  the  bridge,  the 
priests  in  their  coloured  robes,  the  silver  and  gold  candle- 
sticks, the  flags  of  the  various  companies,  the  young  nobles 
in  their  tight  hose  and  slashed  doublets,  the  elders  each  with  a 
long  white  taper  in  his  hand.  .  .  ."  That  November  proces- 
sion endures  too,  as  well  as  that  to  the  Redentore  in  July,  to 
our  own  time,  and  remains  one  of  the  greatest,  the  most 
popular,  and  the  most  picturesque  spectacles  still  to  be  seen 
in  this  city,  which  has  become  so  sombre,  a  mute  at  its  own 
funeral. 

And  the  church  which  Longhena  built,  in  spite  of  its  period, 
in  spite  of  its  wild  ornament,  seems  more  and  more  as  we  get 
to  know  it  better  to  be  one  of  the  finest,  most  astonishing, 
and  perhaps  one  of  the  loveliest  buildings  which  remain  in  the 
Venice  of  to-day. 

It  is  a  great  circular,  or,  rather,  octagonal,  church  under  a 
vast  great  dome,  flanked  by  a  smaller  dome  over  the  sanctuary 

L 


146  VENICE  AND  VENETTA 

chapel.  It  is  set  on  a  great  platform  at  the  top  of  a  broad 
flight  of  steps  at  the  very  entrance  of  the  Grand  Canal.  It 
reigns  there  like  a  queen,  high  above  the  gilded  Fortuna  of 
the  Dogana^  and  seems,  I  often  think,  better  than  any  other 
building  whatsoever  to  sum  up  the  later  city  of  which  it  is  at 
once  the  crown  and  the  symbol.  It  is  easy  to  sneer  at  so 
light  and  so  popular  a  thing ;  but  who  can  deny  its  immense 
success,  not  with  the  vulgar  alone,  but  with  us  all  ?  We  have 
seen  and  suffered  Venice  without  the  Campanile ;  but  who 
could  imagine  her  without  the  Salute  ?  If  that  fell,  Venice 
herself  would  seem  to  have  suffered  some  irremediable  change. 
It  has  stood  there  only  since  the  seventeenth  century,  yet  it 
seems  as  inherent  a  part  of  the  city  as  S.  Mark's. 

Within  the  church  is  a  host  of  that  sort  of  rubbish  which 
accumulates  about  every  shrine  amid  things  as  precious  as 
they  are  lovely.  But  even  this  rubbish  takes  on  a  sort  of  life 
when  we  remember  the  reason  of  the  church  and  what  it 
stands  for  in  the  heart  of  Venice.  As  for  the  precious  things, 
though  they  be  few  they  are  rare  enough,  yet  not  all  are  here 
by  right.  These  Titians,  for  instance,  come  from  the  Spirito 
Santo,  the  island  in  the  lagoon,'  for  whose  friars,  as  Vasari 
relates,  the  painter  made  them  in  1541;  in  the  first  we  see  the 
Descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit :  yet  it  suffered  so  much,  getting 
darker  and  darker,  that  Titian  had  to  paint  it  afresh.  Then 
behind  the  High  Altar  we  see  eight  medallions  by  the  same 
master  made  for  the  same  church  of  the  Spirito  Santo,  the 
Evangelists  and  the  Fathers  of  the  Church;  while  in  the 
sacristy  are  three  ceiling  pictures  by  the  same  master,  made, 
too,  for  the  Spirito  Santo,  of  the  Death  of  Abel,  Abraham's 
Sacrifice,  and  the  Death  of  Goliath.  Here,  too,  is  another 
Titian,  the  best  in  the  church,  but  again  belonging  to  the 
Santo  Spirito,  of  S,  Mark  enthroned  with  four  saints. 

Nor  is  the  Tintoretto  in  the  sacristy,  a  large  and  dark 
picture  of  the  Marriage  in  Cana  of  Galilee,  really  at  home 
here ;  it  comes  from  the  Refectory  of  the  Crociferi,  where  it 
was  certainly  better  seen  and  probably  more  in  place,  for  it  is 
without  any  sense  of  religion,  and  better  suited  to  a  dining 


SESTIERE   DI  DORSODURO  147 

room  than  to  a  church,  for  all  its  Rembrandtesque  beauty 
which,  of  course,   Ruskin  praises  eloquently. 

This  leaves  us  with  little  but  rubbish ;  yet  there  is  a  good 
Marco  Basaiti  in  the  sacristy,  a  San  Sebastian,  a  fine  plague 
picture,  and  a  curious  work  by  Girolamo  da  Treviso  of  S.  Rocco, 
S.  Sebastian,  and  S.  Jerome,  which  are  properly  in  place  here. 

Close  by  S.  Maria  della  Salute,  on  the  left  of  the  church, 
stands  the  beautiful  church  and  abbey  of  S.  Gregorio,  which 
in  its  present  form  dates  from  1392.  This  is  one  of  the 
loveliest  fragments  of  old  Venice  which  remain  to  us. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  Salute  church  is  the  Seminario 
Patriarcale.  It  stands  where  of  old  the  monastery  of  the  SS. 
Trinita  stood.  This  was  destroyed  when  the  Salute  was  built, 
and  in  1670  a  house  was  built  on  the  site  for  the  Order  which 
had  the  new  church  in  its  charge.  For  a  few  years  before 
1 63 1  the  Seminary  had  occupied  the  old  monastery  of  SS. 
Trinita,  but  in  that  year  it  was  transferred  to  Murano.  In 
181 7,  however,  it  was  restored  to  Venice,  returning  to  the 
building  we  now  see,  a  work  of  Longhena.  This  now  contains 
a  small  picture-gallery — Galleria  Manfredini — together  with  a 
collection  of  sculptures,  the  merest  fragments.  Only  one 
picture  here  need  detain  us  more  than  a  moment.  It  is 
the  retouched  and  spoilt  but  still  lovely  Apollo  and  Daphne 
of  Giorgione,  which  for  all  its  delicious  landscape  and  jewel- 
like quality  cannot  compare  with  the  Giovanelli  picture. 

Beyond  the  Seminario  stands  the  Dogana  di  Mare,  the  sea 
custom-house,  which  was  a  building  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
restored  in  1525,  but  is  now  a  work  of  Giuseppe  Benoni  made 
in  1675.  The  Dogana  di  Terra,  a  custom-house  for  goods 
arriving  overland,  is  in  the  Rialto. 


X 

THE    ACADEMY 

THE  Venetian  School  of  Painting  which,  with  its  great 
masters  of  the  sixteenth  century,  occupies  so  famous  a 
place  in  the  history  of  Art,  was  not  only  very  much  later  in 
its  development  than  any  other  school  in  Italy,  but  was 
essentially  different  both  in  its  condition  and  in  its  intention 
from  any  of  them,  and  may  be  said  to  have  sprung  fully  armed 
into  existence  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  really 
without  forbears  in  Venice,  and  after  a  brief  but  very  glorious 
existence  of  some  two  hundred  years  to  have  passed  away, 
leaving,  however,  to  such  men  as  Canaletto,  Guardi,  andTiepolo 
a  remembrance,  a  shadow  of  its  glory  which  remains  as  a 
wonderful  afterglow,  if  we  may  say  so,  upon  their  work. 

Unlike  the  schools  of  Florence,  Siena,  and  Umbria,  the 
Venetian  school  has  little  fundamentally  to  do  with  religion  : 
it  is  the  first,  as  it  is  the  only,  secular  school  of  Italy,  and  its 
chief  technical  characteristic  is  neither  the  power  and  integrity 
of  its  drawing,  nor  its  beauty  and  delight  as  decoration,  but 
the  splendour  of  its  colour,  its  continual  preoccupation  with 
joy  and  with  life. 

The  school  of  Florence,  the  school  of  Siena  early  produced 

each   a  great   master  who   not   only  decided   the  future   of 

painting  in  both  those  cities,  but  in  a  very  real  sense  summed 

up  in  his  own  achievement  what  that  future  was  to  be.     The 

work  of  Masaccio,  of  Michelangelo  even,  is  as  implicit  in  the 

frescoes  of  Giotto  as  the  work  of  Sassetta  is  in  that  of  Duccio ; 

but  there  is  nothing  in  the  early  Venetians  that,  even  in  the 

148 


THE  ACADEMY  149 

smallest  measure,  prophesies  the  work  of  Giorgione,  of  Titian, 
of  Tintoretto.  Nor  can  we  assert  that  Giorgione  himself  is  such 
a  prophecy,  and  that  in  the  fifteen  pictures  which  we  possess 
from  his  hand  all  the  work  of  Titian,  of  Tintoretto,  and  Paolo 
Veronese  really  lies  hid.  For  each  of  these  men  is  himself  a 
prophecy  which  is  only  fulfilled  in  the  work  each  accom- 
plished. Giorgione  may,  it  is  true,  speak  for  the  young  Titian ; 
but  who  but  Titian  himself  may  speak  for  the  later  periods  of 
his  work?  Who  but  Tintoretto  prophesied  of  Tintoretto?  And 
who  but  Veronese  could  have  imagined  the  glory  that  passes 
under  his  name  ?  Moreover,  if  in  Giorgione  we  find  indeed 
the  Giotto  of  the  school,  what  are  we  to  make  of  his  so  late 
appearance  in  1478,  two  hundred  years  and  more  after  the 
birth  of  Giotto  and  Duccio,  and  how  are  we  properly  to 
explain  his  forerunners,  the  Bellini  and  Carpaccio,  for  instance, 
who,  if  indeed  he  is  their  successor,  would  have  been  astonished 
at  their  progeny  ?  For  the  truth  is  that  Giorgione,  Titian,  and 
Tintoretto  are  each  an  absolutely  new  impulse  in  painting. 
Fundamentally  they  owe  nothing,  accidentally  even  very  little, 
to  their  predecessors ;  and  if,  as  we  have  said,  Titian  and 
Tintoretto  were  able  to  find  full  expression  because  of  the 
work  of  Giorgione,  it  is  only  in  the  way  that  Shakespeare  and 
Milton  may  be  said  to  owe  something,  though  it  might  be 
difficult  to  assert  precisely  what  it  is,  to  Spenser ;  what  they 
owe  to  Chaucer,  though  doubtless  they  owe  much,  it  might 
seem  impossible  to  indicate  with  any  clearness.  We  may  say 
the  same  of  Venetian  painting,  which  in  more  ways  than  one 
resembles  very  closely  the  work  of  our  poets  of  the  sixteenth 
and  seventeenth  centuries.  Chaucer's  debt  to  Italy,  to 
Boccaccio,  is  as  great  as  the  debt  of  the  early  Venetians  to 
the  Byzantine  masters  ;  but  the  work  of  Shakespeare,  the 
work  of  Milton,  the  work  of  Giorgione,  Titian,  and  Tintoretto 
are  absolutely  new  things  in  the  world,  the  result  of  a  new 
impulse  and  a  new  vision,  individual  and  personal  to  the  last 
degree,  owing  little  to  any  school  and  making  little  of 
tradition.  They  are  the  great  creators  in  Art,  and  it  is  to 
them  that  all  later  masters  make  their  appeal,  save  Rembrandt 


150  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

perhaps,  Velasquez  as  well  as  Rubens  and  Vandyck  and 
Reynolds. 

What,  then,  do  we  mean  by  "  the  Venetian  school  "  ?  If  all 
that  is  greatest  in  the  Venetian  painters  is  in  each  case  a  new 
and  individual  effort,  owing  little  to  tradition,  the  Venetian 
school  might  seem  to  be  little  more  than  a  term  without  real 
significance.  Yet,  in  fact,  the  Venetian  school  existed  for 
more  than  two  hundred  years;  only  we  find  that  here  the 
term  school  means  something  different  from  what  it  does  in 
the  case  of  the  Florentines,  or  the  Sienese,  or  the  Umbrians : 
something  different,  but  not  something  less  fundamental  or 
less  living. 

By  the  Florentine  school  we  mean  essentially  that  long  line 
of  painters  who  worked  on  the  lines  Giotto  had  laid  down, 
who  extended  them  and  secured  them,  but  never  departed 
from  them ;  by  the  Sienese  school  we  mean  that  line  of 
painters  who  worked  with  the  same  intention  and  with  the 
same  effect  as  Duccio  had  worked  j  and  it  is  significant 
that  when  we  come  to  such  men  as  Sodoma,  Girolamo  di 
Benvenuto,  Pacchia,  and  Pacchiarotto  we  no  longer  speak  of 
them,  Sienese  though  they  be,  as  of  the  Sienese  school,  but 
confess  at  once  that  they  have  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
In  Venice  it  is  different.  There  is  nothing  essentially  of 
Florence  in  Florentine  painting,  there  is  nothing  absolutely 
of  Siena  in  Sienese  work ;  but  we  have  only  to  think  of  the 
work  of  the  "  Venetian  school "  to  remember  Venice.  If, 
indeed,  it  is  from  Giotto  that  the  school  of  Florence  springs,  if 
it  is  to  Duccio  that  the  Sienese  painters  owe  the  whole  of  their 
art,  it  is  to  Venice,  and  to  Venice  alone,  that  the  Venetian 
painters  look — it  is  she  who  has  always  prophesied  of  them, 
and  without  her  they  could  never  have  existed  at  all.  When 
we  speak  of  the  Venetian  school,  then,  we  mean,  in  a  very 
precise  way,  the  school  of  Venice — the  painters  which  Venice 
produced  or,  at  least,  made  essentially  her  own,  all  of  whom 
were  born  within  her  dominion.  This  definition  of  what  we 
mean  by  the  Venetian  school — the  school  which  owes  every- 
thing  to   Venice — alone   unites   such   a   master   as   Lorenzo 


THE  ^ACADEMY  151 

Veneziano  with  Carpaccio  and  the  Bellini,  and  truly  connects 
them  all  with  Giorgione, Titian, Tintoretto,  and  Paolo  Veronese. 
Nor  is  it  in  any  sense  far-fetched  or  even  strained.  For  the 
commercial  Republic  of  Venice  was;  one  of  the  strongest  and 
one  of  the  most  vital  of  the  States  ^of  the  world  during  many 
hundreds  of  years.  It  was  not  merely  the  greatest  political 
power  in  Italy,  but  for  very  many  years  the  greatest  commercial 
power  in  the  world,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  it  depended  not 
upon  any  balance  of  power  in  Italy,  or  even  in  Europe,  but 
upon  both  Europe  and  the  East,  to  which  it  was  the  key.  Its 
political  decadence  sprang  at  last  not  from  any  internal  cause, 
as  in  Florence  or  Siena,  but  from  an  external  misfortune  which 
it  was  incapable  of  preventing — the  Fall  of  Constantinople  in 
1453.  And  since  such  were  the  conditions,  the  splendid  con- 
ditions of  its  existence,  it  was  capable  of  realizing  a  far  more 
intense,  a  far  richer  and  more  energetic  personality  than 
any  of  the  little  Republics  that,  hovering  between  a  despotism 
and  a  futile  democracy,  were  able  politically  to  distract  Italy 
for  so  long,  while  in  culture  they  achieved  for  us  so  much  of 
what  is  most  precious  in  our  lives  to-day.  Their  energies  were 
divided,  for  their  civilization  and  their  culture  united  at  no 
single  point.  In  Venice,  on  the  contrary,  civilization  and 
culture  ■  went  hand  in  hand,  and  thus  when  Venice  expresses 
herself,  whatever  language  she  uses,  we  realize  at  once  that  we 
are  face  to  face  with  a  living  personality  at  one  with  itself.  It 
is  to  this  personality  we  owe  the  Venetian  School  of  Painting. 
Precisely  what  I  mean  will  become  evident  if  for  a  moment 
we  glance  at  the  Republics  of  Florence  and  Venice  as  per- 
sonalities. We  shall  then  see  at  once  that  the  great  men  of 
Florence  were  always  greater  than  their  city,  whereas  Venice 
was  always  greater  than  her  greatest  men.  Florence  was 
incapable  of  absorbing,  often  even  of  using,  her  greatest  sons ; 
she  sends  Dante  into  exile,  she  cannot  keep  Leonardo,  Michel- 
angelo she  fails  either  to  understand  or  to  comprehend, 
Galileo  she  allows  to  be  imprisoned.     Venice,  on  the  contrary, 

1  By  civilization  I  mean  Industry,  Economy,  Politics.     By  culture   I 
mean  Philosophy,  Religion,  Ethics,  and  Art. 


152  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

lets  not  one  of  her  sons  escape,  she  is  so  profoundly  living 
that  she  absorbs  their  energies  and  they  enrich  her.  Marco 
Polo  she  both  understands  and  honours,  he  dies  in  her  arms  ; 
she  absorbs  the  printers  and  paper-makers  and  becomes  the 
printing  press  of  Italy,  even  the  poems  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici 
are  printed  first  at  Venice.  She  alone  of  the  Italian 
Republics  is  capable  of  producing  great  statesmen  and 
politicians,  but  she  absorbs  them ;  they  are  her  servants 
and  not  her  enemies.  For  centuries  she  faces  the  Church 
and  keeps  her  liberty,  like  a  nation ;  and  though  the  League 
of  Cambrai  at  last  destroyed  her,  she  was  able  to  meet 
it,  and  that  even  though  she  had  received  her  death-blow 
long  before  when  the  treachery  of  Pio  II  overthrew  Con- 
stantinople. What,  then,  we  seem  to  see  in  Venice  is  a 
nation,  the  only  nation  in  Italy,  and  this  political  and  moral 
fact  is  decisive  for  her  art,  which  is  as  national  as  the  work  of 
the  English  school  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

But  the  Venetian  school  of  painting  is  peculiar  among  the 
schools  of  Italy  in  something  else  beside  its  nationalism.  It 
is  civic  rather  than  religious.  By  this  I  mean  that  it  was 
rather  the  servant  of  the  city  and  the  citizens,  of  the  State,  in 
fact,  than  of  the  Church,  and  thus  it  became  the  first  secular 
school  of  painting  in  Italy.  There  is  nothing  in  all  Venice, 
no  series  of  frescoes  or  pictures  which  one  may  put  beside 
the  work  of  Giotto  and  his  followers  in  S.  Croce,  of  Ghir- 
landajo  in  S.  Maria  Novella.  The  pictures  of  Carpaccio  in 
in  S.  Giorgio  degli  Schiavoni  were  painted  for  the  Dalmatians 
in  the  service  of  nationalism  rather  than  in  the  service  of 
religion.  As  for  the  mosaics  of  S.  Mark's,  they  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  Venetian  school  of  painting,  are  something,  in 
fact,  outside  of  it,  and  were  made,  after  all,  to  decorate  the 
chapel  of  the  Doges.  If  we  search  for  something  to  put 
beside  the  great  fresco  sequences  of  the  Florentines,  we  shall 
find  it,  not  in  any  church,  but  in  the  Doge's  Palace,  where  at 
least  three  series  of  paintings  have  been  destroyed  and 
replaced  by  the  splendid  work  wholly  of  national  and  civic 
significance  which  we  see  to-day.     And  it  is  the  same  through- 


THE   ACADEMY  153 

out  the  city.  Not  the  Church  but  the  secular  guilds,  the 
Scuole  commissioned  and  received  series  of  paintings.  It  is 
not  to  the  Franciscan  Church  of  the  Frari  or  the  Dominican 
Church  of  SS.  Giovanni  e  Paolo  that  we  go  in  search  of  such 
things,  but  to  the  Scuola  di  S.  Rocco  and  the  Scuola  di 
S.  Maria  della  Carita,  now  the  Academy,  and,  above  all,  to 
the  Palace  of  the  Doges.  Neither  the  Scuola  di  S.  Maria 
della  Carita  nor  the  Scuola  di  S.  Rocco  were  Regular  or  even 
ecclesiastical  communities,  they  were  lay  guilds  j  and  though 
the  works  they  commissioned  for  the  decoration  of  their  guild 
houses  are  religious  in  subject,  they  are  concerned  rather  with 
the  guild  and  its  intention  than  with  religious  teaching.  Thus 
we  see  that  the  Venetian  school  of  painting,  wholly  national 
in  its  inception,  was  altogether  civic  in  its  practice.  The 
painters  depended  not  upon  the  Church  or  the  Religious 
Orders  for  their  commissions,  but  upon  the  Government  and 
the  lay  guilds  of  the  people.  So  that  in  Venice  we  have  the 
first  great  school  of  Italian  painting  which  was  in  no  way  the 
servant  of  the  Church. 

That  this  great  school  was,  in  fact,  to  be  a  national  school 
does  not  become  evident  till  it  was  firmly  established  in  the 
fifteenth  century  by  the  Bellini.  The  earliest  work  that  passes 
under  the  name  of  Venetian,  and  that  was  largely  done  in  the 
service  of  the  Church,  was  for  the  most  part  the  work  of 
foreigners.  This  becomes  evident  at  once  if  we  examine  the 
pictures  collected  in  the  Academy  in  their  chronological  order. 
If  Niccolo  Semilicolo  (1 351-1400)  is  a  Venetian  one  would 
not  be  convinced  of  it  by  his  Coronation  of  the  Virgin  (23)  or 
by  the  smaller  works  in  that  collection  from  his  hand.  He 
might  seem  to  have  no  connexion  at  all  with  the  work  of  the 
Bellini.  If  in  the  splendid  work  of  Lorenzo  Veneziano  (1357- 
1379)  we  seem  to  find  something  more  national,  especially  in 
the  beautiful  ancona  (20)  of  the  Annunciation  with  saints  and 
scenes  from  the  Old  Testament,  which  comes  from  the 
demolished  Church  of  S.  Antonio  di  Castello,  he  is  but  an 
isolated  prophecy  6f  the  splendour  that  is  to  be,  for  in  his 
work  what  we  take  to  be  Venetian  might  seem  rather  to  be 


154  VENICE  AND  YENETIA 

Byzantine,  and  to  owe  more  to  Constantinople  than  to  Venice. 
And  if  we  think  it  strange  that  the  Byzantine  tradition  should 
be  still  found  in  Venice  on  the  eve  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
we  must  remember  the  geographical  position  of  the  city,  and 
that  nationalism,  which  was  the  secret  of  her  being,  had  not 
yet  been  able  to  express  itself.  Yet  in  a  very  real  sense  the 
Byzantinism  of  Lorenzo  is  a  blind,  but  nevertheless  a  certain, 
striving  for  that  very  thing.  Of  that  we  may  be  certain,  for 
Giotto  had  long  since  been  in  Padua,  and  there  his  work 
remained.  Yet  Venice  preferred  what  she  had  long  ago  made 
her  own  and  still  found  in  her  own  buildings  and  mosaics  to 
Tuscan  naturalism. 

Nevertheless  one  may  be  sure  that  even  in  regard  to  Venice 
Giotto  did  not  paint  wholly  in  vain.  We  find  his  influence  in 
the  work  of  Altichiero  of  Padua,  just  as  we  find  the  influence 
of  two  other  schools,  the  Umbrian  in  the  work  of  Gentile  da 
Fabriano  and  the  German  in  the  work  of  Johannes  Alemannus, 
whom  we  call  Giovanni  da  Murano,  and  it  is  these  masters,  in 
fact,  who  faintly  and  very  far  off  influence,  as  far  as  any 
foreigners  were  able  to  do,  the  first  painters  of  the  national 
Venetian  school. 

Paduan  work,  and  still  better,  work  strongly  influenced  by 
the  Paduans,  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Academy ;  but  it  is  in  the 
beautiful  altarpiece  (625)  of  Antonio  Vivarini  and  Giovanni 
da  Murano  that  we  find  perhaps  the  finest  work  of  these  half- 
Venetian,  half-foreign  masters.  There  we  see  the  Madonna 
enthroned  with  her  Divine  Child.  Her  expression  is  cold, 
even  insipid,  and  yet  pensive  withal.  The  enclosed  garden  in 
which  she  sits  reminds  us  of  many  an  old  German  picture, 
but  the  whole  is  in  some  subtle  fashion  a  prophecy  of  some- 
thing warmer  and  more  passionate  than  anything  Germany 
will  know  how  to  produce,  and  the  spell  of  Venice  seems 
already  to  have  fallen  upon  men  who  must  have  felt  their 
fetters. 

But  it  is  in  the  work  of  Gentile  da  Fabriano,  an  Umbrian, 
that  it  seems  to  me  Venice  was  most  fortunate  in  the  influence 
from  without.      In  all  the  schools  of  Italy  she  could  have 


THE  ACADEMY  155 

found  no  more  congenial  prince  to  awake  her.  The  painter 
of  the  glorious  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds  in  the  Florence 
Academy  might  seem  to  have  been  a  Venetian  almost  without 
knowing  it,  and  his  work  in  the  Doge's  Palace,  where  he  was 
employed  to  paint  the  Sala  del  Maggior  Consiglio,  without 
doubt  exercised  the  supreme  influence  upon  the  first  master 
of  the  true  Venetian  school — I  mean  Jacopo  Bellini — as  well 
as  upon  such  masters  as  Antonio  da  Negroponte  and  the  later 
masters  of  the  Murano  school. 

Jacopo  Bellini  was  active  between  1430  and  1470  ;  he  was 
Gentile's  pupil,  and  came  directly  under  the  influence  of  one 
of  the  great  masters  of  Northern  Italy,  Vittore  Pisano  of 
Verona,  whom  we  call  Pisanello.  Pisanello  worked  at  Venice 
in  conjunction  with  Gentile  da  Fabriano,  and  these  two 
painters  may  be  said  to  have  been  the  real  founders  of  the 
Venetian  school.  For  it  is  in  the  work  of  their  pupils,  and 
especially  in  the  work  of  Jacopo  Bellini  and  his  pupils,  that 
we  find  that  school  to  have  been  established. 

There  remains  in  Venice,  happily,  more  of  the  very  rare 
work  of  Jacopo  Bellini  than  anywhere  else.  In  the  Academy 
there  is  a  Madonna  and  Child  (582)  which  is  rather  dis- 
appointing, and  in  the  Museo  Civico  (Sala  IX,  42)  a  Cruci- 
fixion, while  a  doubtful  S.  Giovanni  Crisogono  on  horseback 
remains  in  S.  Trovaso.  But  if  the  Venetian  character  of 
Jacopo's  work  seems  rather  shadowy,  we  are  assured  of  it  at 
once  in  the  great  and  plentiful  work  of  his  sons,  Giovanni 
(1430-1516)  and  Gentile  (1429-1507). 

A  whole  room  is  devoted  to  the  work  of  Giovanni  Bellini 
in  the  Academy,  and  his  work  is  plentiful  in  the  Museo  Civico 
and  in  the  churches  of  the  city.  No  one  in  looking  upon  it 
could  mistake  it  for  anything  but  Venetian  ;  for  though 
Giovanni  was  formed  in  Padua  under  the  influence  of  Dona- 
tello,  he  was  first  his  father's  pupil,  and  it  is  probable  that  his 
greatest  work  was  done  for  the  Doge's  Palace  in  his  native 
city.  What  remains  to  us  in  the  Academy  is  the  six  Madonna 
pictures  and  the  five  small  allegories,  and  there  is  nothing  in 
any  one  of  them  all  that  any  but  a  master  of  the  Venetian 


156  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

school  could  have  painted.  The  work  of  his  brother  Gentile, 
who  was  also  influenced  by  the  Paduans,  is  rarer,  though  not 
in  Venice.  In  the  Academy  we  have  four  pictures :  the  first 
the  picture  of  Beato  Lorenzo  Giustiniani  (570),  painted  in 
1465  ;  the  second  the  wonderfully  lovely  Corpus  Christi  Pro- 
cession in  the  Piazza  (567),  painted  in  1496;  the  third  the 
Miracle  of  the  True  Cross  (508),  painted  in  1500;  and  the 
last  the  Healing  by  the  True  Cross  (563),  also  a  pageant 
picture.  In  such  works  as  these  we  see  how  profoundly 
national  the  school  was. 

It  is  these  men  and  their  pupils  who  make  up  the  school  of 
Venice. 

But  here  something  must  be  said  of  a  painter  born,  and  as 
far  as  we  know  bred,  in  Southern  Italy,  who  came  to  Venice 
in  1473,  m  tne  middle  of  the  career  of  Giovanni  Bellini. 
This  painter  was  Antonello  da  Messina,  and  it  was  from  him 
that,  though  we  are  unable  to  say  how  he  acquired  it,  the 
Venetian  painters  learned  to  paint  in  oil.  Only  two  of  his 
works  remain  in  Venice,  an  Ecce  Homo  in  the  Academy 
(589),  and  a  Portrait  of  a  Man  in  the  Giovanelli  Collection. 
In  contact  with  the  Vivarini  and  Bellini  his  style  developed; 
and  though  it  perhaps  may  be  unjust  to  say  that  he  received 
as  much  as  he  gave,  seeing  that  what  he  gave  was  a  new 
means  and  material  in  painting,  he  certainly  became  a  much 
finer  painter,  especially  a  portrait  painter,  than  without  Venice 
it  seems  likely  he  would  have  been.  As  a  colourist,  too,  and 
this  he  would  owe  as  much  to  that  unknown  Flemish  painter 
whom  we  suppose  to  have  been  his  first  master  as  from  the 
Venetians,  he  has  had  few  equals,  but  it  is  chiefly  as  the 
introducer  of  painting  in  oils  that  he  is  significant  in  the 
Venetian  school. 

Among  the  most  famous  of  his  contemporaries,  whom 
thus  far  at  least  were  his  disciples,  are  Vittore  Carpaccio, 
who  was  working  from  1478  to  1522,  and  was  the  pupil  and 
follower  of  Gentile  Bellini  and  Cima  da  Conegliano,  who 
worked  at  the  same  time,  and  was  the  pupil  of  Alvise 
Vivarini  and  the  disciple  of  Giovanni  Bellini.     The  greater 


•     »   •       >     »  >  •    > 


•       •        t»»»»      »»      ,       ,, 

••-   •      ■••»••  »       »\  •  • 


•  •    • 
•     ••••••      • » 


•   •  •?  »  •. 


O  ^ 

--  P  i 

z  <  ■? 

•-!  5:  s 


THE  ACADEMY  157 

master  of  the  two  was  Carpaccio,  who  in  the  many  works 
by  him  that  remain  in  Venice  shows  himself  as  an  ideal 
painter  of  genre,  which,  when  all  is  said,  remains  the  true 
foundation  of  the  Venetian  school.  We  have  seen  the 
delightful  work  of  Carpaccio  in  S.  Giorgio  degli  Schiavoni  in 
S.  Giorgio  Maggiore  and  in  S.  Vitale,  two  pictures  by  him  are 
also  to  be  found  in  the  Museo  Civico,  but  his  most  charming 
and  delightful  works  are  here  in  the  Academy,  where  the 
Sala  di  S.  Ursula  and  part  of  the  old  church  of  the  Carita 
is  surrounded  by  a  series  of  large  pictures  from  his  hand  con- 
cerning the  story  of  S.  Ursula,  the  Breton  princess  whose  hand 
was  sought  by  the  son  of  the  King  of  England,  and  who 
perished,  with  eleven  thousand  virgins,  under  the  swords  of 
the  Huns  at  Cologne.  Nothing,  I  suppose,  in  all  Venetian 
art  is  more  characteristic  of  it  at  its  simplest  than  the  Dream  of 
S.  Ursula,  where  we  see  a  quiet  room  full  of  the  cool  morning 
light  and  all  the  simple  furniture  a  maid  would  need,  and 
there  in  bed  lies  S.  Ursula  asleep,  dreaming  of  her  prince  and 
her  pilgrimage  to  Rome.  It  is  as  though  in  Carpaccio's  hands 
the  most  fantastic  and  improbable  story  of  the  Dark  Age 
had  become  true,  true  to  life  andLfulLof  meaning,  a  sort 
of  ideal  reality  which  we  shall  search  for  in  vain,  I  think,  out 
of  Venice.  Of  other  works  by  the  same  master  some  are 
altogether  lacking  in  this  quality.  We  find  it  in  the  Healing 
of  a  Madman  by  the  Rialto  Bridge  (566),  painted  in  1455  ;  in 
the  Meeting  of  S.  Joachim  and  S.  Anna  (90),  painted  in  1515; 
and  in  the  Circumcision  (44)  of  15 10. 

Cima,  too,  is  well  represented  in  Venice,  for  beside  his 
works  in  the  Carmine,  in  S.  Giovanni  in  Bragora,  in 
SS.  Giovanni  e  Paolo,  and  in  S.  Maria  dell'  Orto,  which  we 
have  already  examined,  there  are  six  of  his  works  in  the 
Academy  :  a  Madonna  and  six  saints  (36),  Tobias  and  the 
Angel  with  S.  James  and  S.  Nicholas  (592),  a  Madonna  and 
Child  (597),  a  Madonna  and  Child  with  S.  John  and  S.  Paul 
(603),  a  Pieta  (604),  and  a  Christ  with  S.  Thomas  and 
S.  Magnus  (611).  Less  original,  perhaps,  than  Carpaccio, 
Cima  is   nevertheless    one    of    the   greatest    of   Giovanni's 


158  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

disciples.  In  him  we  see  the  other  great  characteristic  of 
the  Venetian  school,  for  he  is  full  of  enthusiasm  for  land- 
scape, the  genre  painting  of  out-of-doors,  and  in  this  he  rivals 
his  master.  Over  and  over  again  he  paints  the  hills  of  his 
birthplace,  Conegliano,  as  though  he  loved  them,  and  indeed 
with  him  landscape  painting  became  one  of  the  secure  and 
great  achievements  of  the  Venetian  school. 

We  have  said  that  he  was  the  pupil  of  Luigi  or  Alvise 
Vivarini.  This  painter  (1461-1503)  was  of  the  Murano 
school,  but  he  came  under  the  influence  of  Giovanni  Bellini, 
and  thus  entered  the  true  Venetian  school  of  the  fifteenth 
century.  Many  works  by  him  remain  up  and  down  Venice, 
while  in  the  Academy  there  are  four  pictures  of  saints — 
S.  Matthew  (619),  S.  John  (618),  S.  Sebastian,  S.  Anthony, 
S.  John  Baptist,  and  S.  Laurence  (621),  an  early  work, 
S.  Clare  (593),  a  Head  of  Christ  (87),  a  later  work,  and  a 
Madonna  and  Child  with  six  saints  (607)  of  1480. 

Thus  we  see  the  Venetian  school  of  the  fifteenth  century 
with  a  common  origin  in  the  Bellini,  and  especially  in 
Giovanni  Bellini.  For  we  have  by  no  means  named  all  the 
brilliant  painters  who  passed  through  Giovanni's  hands.  We 
have  yet  to  speak  of  Catena,  a  native  of  Treviso,  whose  first 
master  was  a  painter  of  that  city,  Girolamo  da  Treviso  by 
name.  Catena,  however,  owes  almost  everything  to  Giovanni 
Bellini,  in  whose  school  he  continued  his  education,  coming 
later  under  the  influence  of  Carpaccio,  and  later  still  under 
that  of  Giorgione. 

Catena,  who  was  active  certainly  from  1495-1531,  but  the 
date  of  whose  birth  is  uncertain,  was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  best 
pupils  Giovanni  Bellini  ever  had.  His  work  is  not  plentiful 
in  Venice,  but  what  there  is  is  chiefly  early  work;  that,  for 
instance,  in  the  Palazzo  Ducale,  a  Madonna  with  two  saints 
and  the  Doge  Loredan,  a  Madonna  with  S.  John  Baptist 
and  another  saint  in  Palazzo  Giovanelli,  a  S.  Trinita  in 
S.  Simeone,  and  a  Madonna  and  Child  in  S.  Trovaso.  His 
work  finds  no  place  in  the  Academy.  Vasari  praises  him  for 
his  portraits,  but  not  one  of  these  remains  in  Venice. 


THE  ACADEMY  159 

Another  painter  born  at  Treviso,  Bissolo  (1464-15 28),  was 
also  a  pupil  of  Giovanni  Bellini,  whom,  in  fact,  he  assisted  in 
his  work.  He  has  not  the  brilliance  of  Catena,  and  is  too 
often  a  disappointing  pupil  of  his  master.  His  work  in 
Venice  is  fairly  plentiful,  and  works  by  him  exist  in  S. 
Giovanni  in  Bragora,  in  S.  Maria  Mater  Domini  in  the 
Redentore,  and  in  the  Museo  Civico,  where  is  a  Madonna  and 
Child  with  S.  Peter  Martyr.  The  Academy  possesses  four 
of  his  paintings  :  a  Marriage  of  S.  Catherine  (79),  a  Pieta  (88), 
a  Presentation  in  the  Temple  (93),  and  a  Madonna  with  S. 
James  and  Job. 

We  find  another  follower  of  Bellini  in  Marco  Basaiti,  who 
was  active  from  147 0-1527.  He  was  probably  a  native  of 
Friuli,  and  had  passed  through  the  hands  of  Alvise  Vivarini. 
His  work  is  somewhat  hard  and  dry,  yet  often  severe  and  full 
of  dignity,  but  he  cannot  claim  to  be  among  the  greater  pupils 
of  his  great  master.  His  work  in  the  Academy  consists  of  five 
pictures :  a  Calling  of  the  Sons  of  Zebedee  (39)  and  a  Christ 
in  the  Garden  (68),  both  painted  in  15 10,  a  S.  James  and  S. 
Antony  (68),  a  Pieta  (108),  S.  George  and  the  Dragon  (102), 
painted  in  1520,  in  which  we  discern  Carpaccio's  influence, 
and  a  S.  Jerome  (39). 

Such  were  the  best  masters  of  the  fifteenth  century  in 
Venice ;  and  while  all  of  them  may  be  said  to  proceed  from 
the  studio  of  the  Bellini,  there  is  not  one  of  them  who  does 
not  show  the  profound  influence  of  Venice  herself.  This 
influence,  which  makes  the  Venetian  the  one  great  national 
school  of  painting  in  Italy,  comes  to  its  own,  and  is  empha- 
sized in  the  great  painters  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  true 
glory  of  Venice.  They  too  proceed  from  the  school  of 
Giovanni  Bellini,  and  thus  complete  the  direct  descent  of 
what  is,  when  all  is  said,  the  greatest  school  of  painting 
that  has  ever  existed  in  the  world. 

And  these  painters  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  Venice 
express  the  fundamental  origins  of  the  school  in  all  their 
strength.  That  school,  as  has  been  said,  was  never  religious 
but  rather  civic  in  its  origin,  and  it  is  in  these  heirs  of  the 


160  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

Bellini,  the  great  pageant  painters,  that  we  realize  that  fact  to 
the  fullest  extent.  For  with  Giorgione  (1478-15 10),  the  pupil 
of  Giovanni  Bellini,  who  came  under  the  influence  of 
Carpaccio,  we  have  a  new  creation  in  Art ;  he  is  the  first 
painter  of  the  true  "  easel  picture,"  the  picture  which  is  neither 
painted  for  a  church  nor  to  adorn  a  great  public  hall,  but  to 
hang  on  the  wall  of  a  room  in  a  private  house  for  the  delight 
of  the  owner.  For  Giorgione  the  individual  exists,  and  it  is 
for  him,  for  the  most  part,  he  works,  and  thus  stands  on  the 
threshold  of  the  modern  world.  Born  in  Castelfranco,  a 
walled  town  of  the  Veneto  not  far  from  Bassano,  not  far 
from  Treviso,  Giorgione  lived  but  thirty-two  years,  dying  of 
plague,  as  it  is  said,  in  15 10.  In  these  short  thirty-two  years, 
however,  he  found  time  to  re-create  Venetian  painting,  to  re- 
turn it  to  its  origins,  and  to  make  the  career  of  his  great  fellow- 
pupil,  Titian,  whom  he  may  be  said  to  have  formed,  possible. 
And  with  the  art  of  Titian  all  that  was  best,  most  fundamental, 
and  implicit  in  Venetian  painting  came  to  flower.  He  sums 
up  Venice,  and  is,  in  fact,  to  painting  what  Shakespeare  is  to 
literature,  the  greatest  master  of  the  modern  world. 

Of  Giorgione's  work,  in  its  subtle  and  serene  rhythm,  in  its 
perfect  reconciliation  of  matter  and  form,  musical,  aspiring  as 
Pater  has  so  well  said,  "towards  the  condition  of  music," 
one  supreme  example  remains  in  Venice — the  Gipsy  and  the 
Soldier  of  the  Palazzo  Giovanelli.  If  the  Apollo  and  Daphne 
of  the  Seminario  be  less  fine,  we  must  not  fail  to  note  what 
ravages  time  and  the  spoiler  have  worked  upon  it ;  while  the 
Christ  bearing  the  Cross  at  S.  Rocco  remains  a  lovely,  if  less 
characteristic,  picture.  In  the  Academy,  unhappily,  there  is 
but  a  late  work  by  this  rare  and  delightful  master,  a  picture  of 
a  storm  stilled  by  S.  Mark  (516),  which  is  his  in  part  only, 
and  which  was  finished  by  Paris  Bordone.  But  in  the 
Giovanelli  and  the  Seminario  pictures  we  have  in  Venice 
perfect  examples  of  those  "  easel  pictures  "  of  which  he  was  the 
creator — pictures  which  are  concerned  with  a  delightful  out-of- 
doors  and  foresee  so  much  of  what  is  most  delightful  in  true 
landscape  painting,  which  are  yet  genre  pictures  of  the  best  and 


ACADEMY  161 

most  ideal  kind,  and  which  were  painted  for  the  delight  of 
private  persons,  to  bring  light  into  a  house  and  to  make 
it  home. 

We  owe  to  Giorgione  in  great  part,  too,  the  enormous  vogue 
of  the  portrait  that  with  him  began  to  take  the  world  by  storm. 
His  early  Portrait  of  a  Man,  in  Berlin,  his  Portrait  of  Antonio 
Brocardo,  in  Buda  Pesth,  his  Knight  of  Malta,  in  the  Uffizi,  his 
Portrait  of  a  Lady,  in  the  Borghese  Gallery  in  Rome  are  the 
great  ensamples  which  Titian  followed  and  at  last  perfected. 

Of  his  actual  pupils  and  scholars  the  most  important  was 
perhaps  Sebastiano  del  Piombo  (1485-1547),  who  had  already 
passed  through  the  hands  of  Giovanni  Bellini  and  Cima,  and 
was  later  to  feel  the  influence  of  quite  another  master,  Michel- 
angelo. Probably  the  best  example  of  his  work  under 
Giorgione's  influence  is  afforded  by  his  S.  Chrysostom  in  S.  Gio- 
vanni Crisostomo  in  Venice,  but  his  work  in  S.  Bartolommeo 
approaches  it  in  beauty,  and  if  the  Visitation  of  the  Academy 
(95)  be  really  his,  it  is  worthy  of  him  at  this  period. 

In  Palma  Vecchio  (1480-1528)  we  have  another  painter, 
strongly  influenced  by  Giorgione,  who  had  passed  through 
Giovanni  Bellini's  hands.  He  was  probably  not  a  Venetian, 
but  he  most  truly  became  one,  as  his  work  in  S.  Maria  Formosa 
is  enough  to  testify,  though,  as  Morelli  says  of  him,  he  always 
kept  about  him  something  of  the  mountains  where  he  was 
born.  Three  pictures  from  his  hand  are  to  be  found  in  the 
Academy :  S.  Peter  Enthroned  with  six  saints  (302),  Christ 
and  the  Woman  Taken  in  Adultery  (310),  and  an  Assumption 
of  the  Virgin  (315),  a  later  work.  And  with  Sebastiano  is  to 
be  named  another  master,  a  pupil  of  Alvise  Vivarini,  who  later 
came  under  Giorgione's  influence — I  mean  that  delightful 
master,  Lorenzo  Lotto  (1480-1556).  Lotto  nowadays  owes 
almost  all  his  reputation  to  the  enthusiasm  of  Mr.  Berenson; 
unrepresented  though  he  be  in  the  Academy  of  Venice,  we 
find  his  strangely  moving  work  in  the  Carmine  there,  in 
S.  Giacomo  dell'  Orio,  and  in  SS.  Giovanni  e  Paolo,  and  never 
without  some  thought,  I  suppose,  of  all  that  Venice  had  re- 
vealed to  him  of  life,  of  life  which  continually  demands  a  God. 


162  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

Nor  did  later  painters  such  as  Bonifazio  (15 10-1540)  and 
Pordenone  (1483-1540)  escape  the  supreme  influence  of  the 
great  master.  Bonifazio  was  a  pupil  of  Palma  Vecchio,  but 
all  that  is  really  best  in  him  he  owes  to  Giorgione.  His  finest 
work  in  Venice  is  the  Dives  and  Lazarus  of  the  Academy 
(291),  where  also  may  be  found  a  dramatic  Massacre  of  the 
Innocents  (319)  from  his  hand,  and  a  Judgment  of  Solomon 
(295),  fine  in  feeling  and  rich  in  colour,  which  was  painted  in 
1533,  and  is  probably  his  only  in  part.  As  for  Pordenone  he 
was  probably  the  pupil  of  Alvise  Vivarini,  but  his  art  owes  all 
that  is  good  in  it  to  Giorgione,  as  the  works  from  his  hand  in 
the  Academy — a  Portrait  of  a  Lady  (305),  a  Madonna  and 
Child  with  saints  and  the  Ottobon  Family  (323),  S.  Lorenzo 
Giustiniani  and  three  other  saints  (316),  and  a  Madonna  of 
Carmel  (323) — testify. 

But  when  all  is  said,  when  all  Giorgione's  pupils  have  been 
numbered  and  the  men  who  in  a  later  time  came  under  his 
influence  named,  when  even  his  own  work,  miraculous  though 
it  often  seems  and  altogether  beautiful  and  to  be  loved,  is 
taken  into  account,  Giorgione's  greatest  achievement  was 
nevertheless  the  supreme  and  living  work  of  Titian — of 
Titian  who  was  his  friend  and  who  entered  into  his 
inheritance. 

This  is  no  place  to  begin  a  discussion  of  Titian's  achieve- 
ment, for  that  achievement  is  too  wide  and  various  and 
too  generally  understood  and  acknowledged  for  any  words  of 
mine  to  explain  or  to  insure  it.  For  most  of  us  he  remains 
the  greatest  painter  our  world  has  yet  produced,  and  one  of 
the  most  human  and  consoling. 

Born  in  the  town  of  Cadore  in  1477,  Titian  came  to  Venice 
and  entered  the  botUga  of  Giovanni  Bellini,  yet  no  work  we 
possess  certainly  from  his  hand  shows  him  to  us  at  this  period 
of  his  life.  We  meet  him  first  as  the  disciple  and  friend  of 
his  fellow-pupil  Giorgione,  here  in  Venice,  in  the  Child  Jesus 
with  S.  Catherine  and  S.  Andrew  of  S.  Marcuola,  and  more 
especially  in  the  earlier  work  in  the  sacristy  of  the  Salute, 
S.  Mark  Enthroned  with  four  saints.    The  Academy  possesses 


ACADEMY  163 

four  of  his  works,  but  they  are  all  of  a  later  period,  the 
earliest,  the  great  Assumption,  dating  from  1518.  This  vast 
altarpiece,  painted  for  the  High  Altar  of  the  Frari,  may  be  said 
to  be  the  first  of  Titian's  works  in  his  grand,  assured  style. 
Yet,  seen  as  it  is  under  a  top  light  in  the  Academy,  I  have 
never  been  able  to  really  to  understand  it  or  to  love  it  as  I 
might  have  done  had  I  had  the  fortune  to  see  it  in  that  dim, 
vast  church  of  the  Friars,  where  Mary  must  surely  have  seemed 
indeed  to  soar  out  of  the  gloom  of  the  earth  into  the  light  of 
Heaven,  where  He  who  is  the  Light  of  Light  stretches  His  arms 
to  receive  her. 

Another  vast  but  more  tender  work,  the  Presentation  of  the 
Virgin,  here  in  the  Academy,  was  painted  between  1534  and 
1538  for  the  very  hall  it  still  occupies  in  the  Scuola  della 
Carita,  which  we  now  call  the  Accademia.  Perhaps  that  is 
why  we  care  for  it  so  much;  and  though  the  general  scheme  of 
the  work  is  traditional,  we  have  only  to  remember  what  Titian 
makes  of  that  small,  awkward  room — a  very  "street  of  palaces" 
— to  realize  something  of  his  achievement. 

The  S.  John  the  Baptist  (314),  a  work  of  about  1550,  from 
the  Church  of  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  shows  us  Titian's  use,  almost 
religious  in  its  effect,  of  landscape,  and  just  there  we  seem  to 
come  again  to  Giorgione ;  while  in  the  Pieta  (400)  we  have  a 
work  in  his  last  wonderful  manner,  begun  in  1573,  two  years 
before  his  death  at  the  age  of  ninety-nine,  and  finished  by  Palma 
Giovane.  Titian  had  painted  this  great  and  moving  canvas 
for  the  tomb  he  wished  to  prepare  for  himself  in  the  Cappella 
del  Crocifisso  in  the  Frari ;  but  before  it  could  be  finished,  he 
died  of  the  plague.  And  under  this  last  achievement  of 
the  mighty  painter  Palma  wrote:  "What  Titian  left  unfinished, 
Palma  has  completed  with  reverence,  and  has  dedicated  the 
work  to  God." 

Titian  was  the  last  of  the  true  Venetian  school ;  those  who 
came  after  him,  great  painters  though  they  were,  were  foreigners 
like  Paolo  Veronese,  or  eclectics  like  Tintoretto.  Yet  among 
the  followers  of  Titian  one  disciple  from  Treviso  must  be 
named  before  we   speak  of  these  two  painters,  though  he, 


164  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

too,   fell  later  under  the   all-pervading  influence  of  Michel- 
angelo. 

Paris  Bordone  was  born  in  Treviso  in  1495,  and  died  m 
1570.  He  was  absolutely  Venetian  by  education,  and  owed 
everything  to  Titian,  yet  he  took  a  line  of  his  own,  and  his 
masterpiece,  now  in  the  Academy,  the  Fisherman  and  the  Doge 
(320),  an  early  work,  fully  justifies  his  fame,  for  it  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  works  in  that  collection,  which  also  possesses 
his  Paradise  (322). 

But  the  whole  of  the  art  of  Venice  after  the  death  of  Titian 
is,  or  seems  to  us  to  be,  overshadowed  by  the  heroic  work, 
almost  completely  personal  in  its  vision,  of  Jacopo  Tintoretto, 
who  was  born  in  15 18,  and  was  perhaps  the  pupil  of  Boni- 
fazio,  who  passed  in  turn  under  the  influence  of  Titian, 
of  Parmigianino,  and  of  Michelangelo,  and  yet  always 
remained  himself.  It  is,  indeed,  most  characteristic  of  him 
that  he  is  himself  rather  than  Venetian.  I  do  not  mean  that 
he  was  unmoved  by  his  environment ;  far  from  it :  he  was 
always  at  the  mercy  of  it ;  but  he  sought  to  express  his  own 
personal  impressions  of  the  world,  of  life,  of  Venetian  life, 
rather  than  to  be,  as  it  were,  the  national  voice,  as  Titian  had 
certainly  been  with  such  a  vast  succ  :ss.  It  is  characteristic  of 
him  in  his  great  spiritual  egoism  and  strength  that  he  was 
impatient  of  the  art  of  Titian.  The  colour  of  Titian — yes,  he 
cannot  but  accept  that,  but  he  proclaims  that  he  will  add  to  it 
the  design  of  Michelangelo.  In  the  attempt  it  seems  to  me 
he  succeeded  only  in  shadowing  forth  his  discontent,  in  filling 
the  sky  with  the  light  and  darkness  of  his  own  soul,  in  thrusting 
upon  man  a  task  too  large  for  him,  insisting  always  that  he  is 
rather  a  demigod  than  a  mortal,  a  demigod  who  is  never  at 
peace,  who  has  despised  small  things,  and  is  at  home  only  in  the 
midst  of  a  vast  battle  of  light  and  darkness  in  which  Heaven, 
earth,  and  his  own  soul  are  continually  involved.  He  has 
never  understood  how  to  be  at  peace.  How  differently 
Giorgione  has  regarded  the  world !  For  him  the  earth,  the 
sky,  and  the  life  of  man  seem  to  pass  into  a  strain  of  music; 
and  for  Titian,  even  in  his  latest  period,  all  is  to  be  understood 


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ACADEMY  165 

and  expressed  by  means  of  beauty  or  character.  It  is  only 
Tintoretto  who  sacrifices  everything  for  energy,  and,  as  it  were, 
by  flashes  of  light  and  darkness  would  reveal  to  us  man  as  a 
kind  of  force,  tragic  and  restless  and  unhappy  upon  the 
distracted  earth.  Yet  he  painted  the  beautiful  and  noble 
works  in  the  Ante-Collegio  of  the  Ducal  Palace  and  in  the 
year  1578. 

But  he  was  the  child  of  an  unfortunate  age.  The  vast  and 
invincible  forces  of  disaster  that  threatened  Italy  and  Venice, 
the  cataclysm  of  the  Reformation,  the  need  of  a  new  revela- 
tion in  religion,  appealed  to  him  with  a  terrible  and  tragic 
fascination  ;  before  the  bitter  and  overwhelming  energy  of 
life  he  was  compelled  to  express  himself  and  to  cry  out  in 
the  agony  of  his  doubt  concerning  it.  It  is  this  appalling 
struggle,  most  of  all  with  himself,  with  the  fierce  egoism  of 
his  own  nature,  that  we  see,  I  think,  in  so  many  of  his  works. 
The  Church  has  been  challenged,  and  so  successfully  that 
Christianity  itself  seems  to  be  involved  in  the  disaster.  So 
he  will  insist  on  its  everlasting  certainty  and  truth,  yes,  for  him 
himself,  with  an  almost  demonic  energy  and  force.  He  will, 
like  a  prophet,  call  up  that  new  revelation ;  and  so  in  the 
Scuola  di  S.  Rocco  we  see  all  we  have  loved  no  longer  humble 
and  poor,  but  overwhelming  in  its  exaggeration.  The  humble 
and  appealing  figures  of  the  Gospel  story  are  revealed  to  us 
anew,  heroic  in  size,  filled  with  a  terrible  physical  energy  and 
strength,  in  an  overwhelming  shadow  and  light  such  as  no  man 
till  then  had  so  much  as  dreamed  of,  and  all  is  contrived  with 
so  much  actuality,  so  realistically,  that  we  feel  it  to  be  unreal  and 
even  impossible.  These  figures  with  their  immense  torsos  and 
limbs,  their  vast  gestures,  and  pride,  and  strength,  are  Madonna, 
Christ  and  His  disciples : — only  we  do  not  recognize  them. 
They  fail  in  their  appeal  to  us,  they  fail  in  beauty,  not  in 
energy  or  mastery  or  beautiful  effects  of  painting,  but  in  that 
beauty  which  is  truth  serene,  which  belongs  to  that  perfect 
state  which  lieth  in  the  heavens,  seen  there  by  Plato,  and 
which  S.  Paul  has  told  us  is  there  eternal.  Just  this  neither 
Titian  nor  Giorgione  had  ever  willingly  sacrificed,  nor   as  I 


166  VENICE  AND  YENETIA 

think,  can  any  artist  of  any  kind  safely  forget  that  it  is  an 
essential  of  our  joy. 

There  are  many  pictures  by  Tintoretto  in  the  Academy, 
and  among  them  are  several  portraits — the  Portrait  of  Carlo 
Morosini  (242),  the  Portrait  of  a  Senator,  a  Senator  in  Prayer 
(241),  the  Portrait  of  Jacopo  Soranzo  (245),  painted  in  1564, 
the  Portrait  of  Andrea  Capello  (234),  an  early  work,  the  Por- 
traits of  two  Senators  (244),  and  again  of  two  Senators  (240), 
and  they  are  all  of  very  great  splendour,  painted,  it  seems,  with 
great  swiftness  and  with  a  fine  reserve.  If  then,  when  we 
remember  Titian,  these  works  seem  less  noble,  and  full  of 
character  though  they  be,  to  depend  more  upon  their  brilliance 
and  a  certain  jewel-like  quality,  they  are  only  less  satisfying 
than  those  which  are  the  greatest  of  all. 

With  Tintoretto  Venetian  painting  became  both  personal 
and  eclectic,  so  that  we  can  no  longer  regard  it  as  the  work 
of  a  national  school;  in  Paolo  Veronese  it  became  frankly 
foreign.  Paolo  of  Verona,  born  in  1528,  never  came  under 
the  influence  of  any  Venetian  master  in  his  youth,  he 
accepted  the  Spanish  invasion  with  a  cheerfulness  that 
recommended  his  art  to  the  great  international  religious 
Orders,  and  Venice  herself  in  his  day  seems  to  have  put 
aside  the  fear  that  Tintoretto  had  so  tragically  expressed  for 
her.  At  any  rate,  she  accepted  Paolo  with  delight.  And 
seeing  the  riot  of  his  pictures  on  the  great  coffered  ceilings 
of  the  palaces  and  churches  of  the  city  to-day,  who  shall  blame 
her  ?  Her  own  art  was  dead ;  she  herself  was  mortally  wounded ; 
only  in  such  countrymen  as  the  Bassanesi  was  any  virtue  left ; 
so  Paolo  had  his  fling,  and,  like  the  great  entertainer  he  was, 
he  conjured  up  for  her  all  her  vanished  pride  and  assured  her 
she  was  still  Queen  of  the  Adriatic.  And  for  the  religious 
he  contrived  most  cheerful  scenes  in  Heaven  full  of  mastery 
and  delight,  and  with  a  richness  and  splendour  that  make 
them  still  among  the  brightest  things  in  the  world,  and  to 
which  Tiepolo  one  day  will  know  how  to  give  a  lightness  and 
a  laughter  and  indeed  a  life  as  of  birds  or  seraphs  on  the  wing. 


XI 


THE    ISLANDS    OF    THE    GIUDECCA 
AND   S.    GIORGIO   MAGGIORE 

THERE  is  nothing,  I  think,  that  is  so  effectual  in  luring 
us  back  to  Venice  again  and  again  as  the  remembrance 
of  those  delicious  hours — in  early  morning  before  the  sun  has 
southed,  in  the  quiet  afternoons  that  pass  so  slowly  and  so 
noiselessly  in  a  city  whose  streets  are  the  sea,  or  in  the 
sultry  evenings  when  through  the  twilight  the  far-off  music 
of  the  singers  on  the  Grand  Canal  comes  to  us  faintly  over 
the  water — that  are  spent  in  a  gondola  going  nowhither,  but 
lazily  "  poking  about,"  as  we  say,  among  the  fishing-boats  and 
broken  quays  of  the  Zattere  or  the  Giudecca,  in  the  forgotten 
side  canals,  or  in  the  loveliness  and  silence  of  the  lagoon, 
when  by  chance,  and  not  by  arrangement,  we  come  upon 
some  lost  and  tangled  garden,  some  neglected  church,  or  find 
where  we  least  expect  it — for  on  such  expeditions  he  is  wise 
who  leaves  his  guide-book  at  home — a  mosaic  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  a  relief  of  the  fifteenth,  a  picture  by  some  lesser  master 
of  the  great  period. 

In  Venice  itself,  in  the  streets,  the  piazzas,  and  the  canals, 
however  we  go,  on  foot  or  in  a  gondola,  there  can  be  no  one 
who  has  not  often  been  weary.  To  pass  through  the  great 
saloons  of  the  Ducal  Palace,  to  wander  along  the  golden 
aisles  of  S.  Mark's,  to  trudge  through  the  narrow  and  ever- 
winding  ways  of  the  city,  across  numberless  bridges,  must 
ever  bring  with  them,  for  all  the  continually  changing  vistas, 
a  measure  of  boredom  and  fatigue  which  after  the  first  surprise 

167 


1 68  VENICE  AND  YENETIA 

is  not  outweighed  altogether  by  the  pleasure  we  are  perhaps 
too  eager  and  too  determined  in  our  search  to  enjoy.  But  it 
is  different  with  the  islands,  which,  whether  far  or  near,  hold 
nothing  that  is  so  obviously  precious  that  we  must  perforce,  if 
we  are  to  get  our  money's  worth,  search  it  out.  They  remain 
really  for  the  tourist  "  not  worth  seeing,"  and  so  at  last  they 
become  for  the  less  eager  and  more  quiet  traveller  the  most 
precious  memory  of  his  voyage,  things  which  seem  to  have 
come  to  him  almost  by  chance  in  a  quiet  hour  between 
sleeping  and  waking,  as  it  were,  between  a  dream  and  a 
vision,  swimming  into  his  ken  as  a  mirage  might  do,  wonder- 
fully, in  the  brightness  of  the  day  or  in  the  quietness  of 
evening,  scarcely  real,  after  all,  but  something,  nevertheless, 
that  he  will  never  forget.  Such  is  certainly  the  remembrance 
I  shall  always  retain  of  Murano,  of  all  the  further  islands,  and 
if  it  is  in  a  less  tranquil  mood  maybe  that  most  of  us  recall 
the  islands  of  the  Giudecca  and  S.  Giorgio  Maggiore,  it  is 
because  we  turn  them  into  sights  to  be  seen,  rather  than 
pleasures  to  be  enjoyed.  They  lie,  from  the  Piazza,  across 
the  very  mouth  of  the  Grand  Canal,  across  the  busiest  sheet 
of  water  in  all  the  Venetian  lagoon,  where  many  a  great  ship 
lies  at  anchor  busily  loading  or  unloading,  and  where  all  day 
long  and  far  into  the  night,  too,  the  little  steamers  from  all 
over  the  Veneta  Marina  pass  and  repass,  with  much  blowing 
of  sirens  and  shouting  amid  feathers  of  steam  and  what  seems 
to  be  a  general  confusion. 

This  continually  changing  scene  in  all  its  restlessness  that 
lies  between  the  great  and  noble  buildings  of  the  Piazza  and 
the  rosy  churches  of  Palladio  upon  the  two  islands  is,  how- 
ever, on  any  spring  or  summer  afternoon  redeemed  from  its 
mere  liveliness  and  a  certain  measure  of  indignity  by  the 
impartial  sun.  On  a  grey  day  we  see  at  once  that  much  has 
been  lost  since  Guardi  passed  by — and  yet  it  is  Guardi,  first  of 
all,  Guardi  and  Canaletto,  who  have  painted  Venice  most 
faithfully,  and  have  used  her  least  as  a  mere  motive  on  which 
to  build  impossible  dreams.  But  in  the  spring  or  summer 
sunshine  there  is  no  other  city  in  the  world  that  has  so  spark- 


THE    ISLAM)   OF   S.    GIORGIO,    VENICE 


S.   GIORGIO  MAGGIORE  169 

ling,  so  gay,  so  sensuous,  and  so  delightful  an  air  as  Venice 
and  her  islands  as  seen  from  the  Molo  of  the  Piazzetta.  Far 
away  eastward,  in  an  exquisite  bow  of  ivory  and  blue  and  gold, 
stretches  the  Riva,  to  the  green  of  the  Public  Gardens  about 
the  blue  and  green  of  the  lagoon.  The  countless  boats  that 
line  that  incomparable  crescent,  their  sails  hoisted,  half  hoisted, 
furled  or  unfurled,  heaped  about  their  gunwales  or  trailing 
in  the  water,  seem  to  be  of  all  colours,  from  golden  red  to 
green  and  black.  A  forest  of  light  masts  darkens  the  air.  Here 
and  there  a  great,  tall  ship,  its  hull  black  and  red,  strains  at 
anchor,  meeting  the  incoming  tide.  Far  away  by  the  Gardens 
a  grey  battleship  waits  on  guard,  the  sunbeams  glancing  on  its 
brass  work,  its  shadow  deep  along  the  sea.  Before  one  the 
gondolas,  beaked  and  black,  pass  and  repass  amid  the  hurry  of 
the  little  steamers  from  the  many  island  ports,  from  the  Lido 
and  the  lanes  of  the  city  itself.  And  as  one  lifts  one's  eyes, 
under  the  sky  tranquil  and  soft,  there  rises  before  one  the 
island  of  S.  George  with  its  rosy  tower  tipped  with  a  golden 
angel,  its  great  church  with  the  fagade  of  pale  stone,  and  to 
the  right  the  Giudecca  with  its  line  of  houses,  its  deserted,  cool 
churches,  and  all  in  front  the  great  sea  lane  of  the  Canal  della 
Giudecca  with  its  line  of  great  ships  in  the  midst  of  it  and  its 
air  as  of  a  port  or  harbour  of  the  sea. 

In  the  brilliant  heat  of  the  afternoon  one  is  wont  to  hurry 
across  that  great  waterway  of  the  Giudecca  to  the  shelter  of 
the  narrow  canals  of  the  island  or  the  shade  of  the  church 
of  S.  George.  But  at  evening,  at  sunset,  it  is  there  rather  than 
anywhere  else  one  should  linger  watching  the  twilight  come 
over  the  city,  listening  for  the  Ave  bells,  passing  close  under  the 
great  ships,  talking  with  some  sailor  from  Istria  or  the  Dal- 
matian coast,  or  some  sea  captain  from  England,  waiting  for 
the  sun  to  dip  behind  S.  Eufemia,  to  sink  behind  the 
Euganean  hills ;  and  then  in  the  twilight  one  should  steal 
out  to  the  lagoon  beyond  and  listen  for  the  tide  and  think 
of  the  sea.  For  there,  at  least,  one  cannot  doubt  or  question 
that  Venice  is  a  part  of  the  sea;  one  of  those  marvellous 
cities  perhaps  that  are  founded  there  in  the  depths  we  may 


170  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

not  know,  of  whose  towers  and  citadels  and  bells  sailors  from 
time  to  time  have  brought  us  word  with  hushed  voices  and 
eyes  that  no  longer  light  up  at  a  sight  of  home.  Only  Venice 
has  risen,  yes,  with  the  sun,  just  to  the  surface  of  the  sea 
which  still  lingers  about  her  feet,  in  whose  arms  she  is  still 
in  some  sort  inviolate. 

That  sense  of  the  sea  which  is  too  often  absent  in  the 
curious  and  picturesque  streets  of  Venice  itself  is  ever 
present  with  us  among  the  islands,  and  especially  so,  I 
always  think,  on  the  island  of  the  Giudecca,  where  so  con- 
siderable a  part  of  the  fisher  folk  of  the  Veneto  seem  to  live, 
in  whose  side  canals  is  gathered  so  great  a  gear  of  boats,  and 
from  whose  dear  gardens  all  the  horizons  are  wide  and  endless. 

On  the  Giudecca  itself  there  is  but  one  church  that  anyone 
ever  visits,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  it  contains  nothing, 
or  very  little,  of  any  interest.  The  Redentore  was  built  in  1576 
by  Palladio  to  commemorate  the  deliverance  of  Venice  from 
the  plague  of  15  71.  Yet  though  that  festival  be  still  kept  on 
the  third  Sunday  in  July,  when  a  bridge  of  boats  joins  the 
church  with  the  Fondamenta  delle  Zattere  and  a  great  pro- 
cession passes  to  and  fro,  the  Redentore  is  not  a  plague 
church  like  the  Salute,  and  almost  nothing  now  within  it 
reminds  you  of  its  genesis  but  its  name,  the  fact  of  its  dedica- 
tion to  "the  Redeemer."  The  Redentore  is  a  Franciscan 
church  with  a  Franciscan  convent — now  a  barracks — at- 
tached to  it ;  and  whatever  may  be  thought  of  its  architecture, 
it  makes  with  S.  Giorgio  Maggiore  a  more  considerable  effect 
in  its  cold  simplicity  than  any  other  building  outside  the  city. 
Within,  it  must  be  confessed,  it  is  chilling  and  empty.  Over 
the  first  altar  in  the  right  aisle  is  a  rather  feeble  Nativity  by 
Francesco  Bassano;  over  the  third  altar  we  find  a  Tinto- 
retto, Christ  bound  to  the  Column ;  and  opposite  is  an  As- 
cension by  the  same  master,  but  without  enthusiasm.  Nor 
are  the  fairly  good  reliefs  of  the  High  Altar  likely  to  win  our 
regard,  nor  the  Crucifixion  with  S.  Mark  and  S.  Francis,  over 
the  High  Altar  itself,  by  Campagna.  The  real  reason  why  the 
tourist  visits  this  church,  apart  from  the  fact  that  it  is  a  work 


S.   GIORGIO   MAGGIORE  171 

of  Palladio,  would  seem  to  be  that  in  the  sacristy  there  are 
three  pictures  of  a  great  loveliness  which  of  old  were  ascribed 
to  Giovanni  Bellini,  but  which  to-day  we  assign  to  Bissolo  and 
to  Alvise  Vivarini.  The  first,  in  which  is  Madonna  with  her 
little  Son  between  S.  John  and  S.  Catherine,  is  by  Bissolo,  as 
is  the  second  of  Our  Lady  with  the  Child  between  S.  Francis 
and  S.  Mark.  The  third,  however,  the  most  beautiful  and  the 
earliest  of  the  three,  is  the  work  of  Vivarini.  There  we  see 
Madonna  in  a  red  robe  with  the  Child  asleep  on  her  knees, 
while  two  angels  play  softly  some  heavenly  lullaby.  Over  the 
green  curtain  which  shuts  out  the  world  a  goldfinch  pipes 
softly  in  answer  to  the  soft,  strange  music,  and  the  whole 
earth  has  made  an  offering  of  her  fruits  to  Him  who  in  the 
beauty  of  the  lilies  is  come  to  His  kingdom. 

The  Church  of  S.  Giorgio  on  the  island  hard  by  is  of  much 
greater  antiquity  and  interest.  Once  known,  in  the  eighth 
century,  as  the  Island  of  Cypresses,  about  790  it  became  the  site 
of  a  small  church,  and  in  982  Doge  Tribune  Memmo  gave  the 
island  to  the  Benedictines,  who  there  established  a  monastery, 
which  proved  to  be  the  greatest  in  Venice.  This  church  and 
monastery  were  very  much  damaged  in  1223  by  an  earthquake, 
but  they  were  rebuilt  at  the  expense  of  Doge  Pietro  Ziani,  and 
finally,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  by  Andrea  Palladio  of 
Vicenza,  the  greatest  architect  of  that  age.  S.  Giorgio  Mag- 
giore  has  been  the  scene  of  more  than  one  great  function,  but 
the  conclave  which  elected  Pope  Pius  VII,  which  was  held 
in  the  church  in  1800,  might  seem  to  be  the  most  celebrated. 
Six  years  later  the  convent  was  suppressed  and  turned  into 
a  barracks,  which  it  has  ever  since  remained.  The  story  of  the 
church  is,  however,  by  no  means  complete  with  the  account 
given  above.  Always  dedicated  to  S.  George,  in  n  10  it 
received  the  body  of  S.  Stephen  from  Doge  Ordelafo 
Falier,  and  that  gift  gave  rise  to  the  great  festival  in 
which  the  Doge  went  in  state  procession  to  the  church 
upon  S.  Stephen's  Day  and  there  heard  Mass. 

The  church  contains  a  good  many  pictures,  but  nearly  all 
of  th  em  are  of  inferior  merit.     In  the  right  aisle  are  a  Nativity 


i72  VENICE  ANJ)  YENETIA 

by  Jacopo  Bassano  and  a  wooden  crucifix  by  Michelozzo  the 
Florentine.  Over  the  next  altar  is  a  Martyrdom  of  SS.  Cosma 
and  Damiano  by  Tintoretto,  who  has  many  pictures  in  the 
church,  not  one  of  them  of  any  great  merit.  For  instance, 
there  is  a  Coronation  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  here  in  the  right 
transept,  a  Benedictine  picture,  and  on  the  right  wall  of  the 
sanctuary  a  gloomy  Last  Supper,  and  on  the  left,  the  best 
picture  in  the  church,  the  Gathering  of  the  Manna,  by  the 
same  master.  The  choir  stalls  behind  the  High  Altar  are 
Flemish  sixteenth-century  work,  and  are  adorned  with  scenes 
from  the  life  of  S.  Benedict. 

Tintoretto's  work  is  found  again  in  the  chapel  near  the  left 
transept,  where  he  has  a  Resurrection  in  which  the  donors 
figure,  Doge  Vincenzo  Morosini  and  his  family  j  while  in  the 
left  transept  itself,  near  the  altar  and  tomb  of  S.  Stephen,  is  the 
martyrdom  of  that  Saint,  by  the  same  master.  In  the  left 
aisle  there  is  nothing  of  interest  save  perhaps  the  monument 
near  the  door  of  Doge  Marcantonio  Memmo. 

As  for  the  Campanile,  which  makes  so  fine  a  picture  from 
the  Piazzetta,  and  from  which  one  may  have  quite  the  best 
view  of  the  Veneto,  it  fell  in  1774,  killing  a  monk  and  in- 
juring others.  It  was  rebuilt  as  we  see  it  by  Benedetto 
Buratti. 

Let  no  one  imagine,  however,  that  when  he  has  seen  these 
two  churches  he  has  done  with  the  islands  of  S.  Giorgio  and 
the  Giudecca  or  exhausted  all  that  they  have  to  show.  No 
impression  could  be  more  false  than  this,  for  the  wise  traveller 
will  find  in  their  by-ways  more  of  the  real  Venetian  life  as  it 
must  have  been  lived  by  the  common  people  for  many  cen- 
turies than  he  is  likely  to  come  upon  anywhere  else  in  Venice. 
And  then  he  who  does  not  know  the  gardens  of  the  Giudecca, 
who  has  not  wandered  down  their  deserted  alleys  along  the 
great  sea-wall,  or  waited  there  for  sunset,  looking  out  over  the 
wide  and  lonely  lagoon  to  the  Lidi  and  the  sea,  does  not  know 
Venice  at  all,  but  has  been  deceived  by  a  city  which  more 
than  any  other  in  Italy  has  become  a  show-place  for  Germans 
and  the  barbarians  and  sentimentalists  of  all  ages. 


THE   GIUDECCA  173 

For  me  at  least  the  Giudecca  has  a  charm  I  find  nowhere 
else ;  for  beautiful  though  the  Riva  or  the  Fondamenta  delle 
Zattere  can  be  in  the  early  dawn  and  morning  or  in  the 
evening  twilight,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  has  the  gift  of 
quietness  or  any  garden  at  all,  save  the  Giardino  Pubblico  at  the 
Riva's  end,  which,  as  one  soon  finds,  is  rather  a  park  than  a 
garden.  But  in  the  Giudecca  all  that  you  miss  in  Venice 
to-day  may  be  found.  You  cross  the  often  turbulent  tide  of 
the  great  sea  lane  that  divides  it  from  Venice,  you  creep  all  up 
the  wonderful  great  road  where  the  big  ships  lie  at  anchor  and 
you  may  hear  on  a  summer  evening  so  many  of  the  songs  of 
the  world,  you  pass  quite  by  the  Redentore  and  S.  Eufemia 
della  Giudecca,  which  stands  up  so  grandly  against  the  gold  of 
the  sky,  you  come  to  the  Rio  di  S.  Biagio  and  turn  into  it, 
quite  full,  as  it  seems,  with  fishing-boats,  its  quays  laden  with  sea 
tackle  and  nets  and  baskets  and  the  ropes  and  gear  of  ships, 
among  which  the  children  play  the  games  they  have  always 
played,  dressed  in  rags  of  all  sorts  of  colours,  their  dear 
tousled  heads  bending  over  toys,  as  we  say,  the  great  symbols 
of  life  after  all  and  the  affairs  of  men,  a  tiny  ship  or  a  doll,  and 
I  know  not  what  else,  intent  upon  their  innocent  business.  In 
the  doorways,  in  the  windows,  their  mothers  gossip  and  laugh 
softly,  awaiting  their  men,  whom  you  find  everywhere  on 
board  those  many  little  vessels,  mending  nets  or  sewing  at  a 
sail  or  stepping  a  new  mast  or  splicing  an  oar  or  painting 
a  name. 

Your  gondola  passes  quite  among  these  humble  folk;  their 
wide  eyes  of  the  sea  gaze  almost  shyly  into  yours,  you  hear 
the  children's  voices,  a  boy  with  bare  feet  runs  towards  you 
begging  for  soldi ^  a  great  bare-legged  girl  of  sixteen  insolently 
throws  you  a  flower,  the  women  stop  their  talk  to  watch  you, 
the  sailors  give  you  greeting,  till  suddenly  you  pass  out 
from  between  the  houses,  the  quays  and  their  various  life, 
the  noise  and  tumult  are  gone,  and  before  you  the  great  grey 
lagoon  stretches  away  and  away  for  ever,  with  here  a  little 
island,  there,  but  very  far  off,  a  tiny  tower,  you  know  not 
where,  that  arises  out  of  the  sea  to  which  this  road  or  that, 


174  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

marked  out  by  the  great  grey  posts  of  the  lagoon,  seems  to 
lead,  if  one  might  follow  it,  into  the  sunset  and  the  far  away 
clear  blue  hills.  The  voices  of  life,  the  noise  of  the  world, 
have  died  away ;  here  there  is  only  silence  and  the  sigh  of  the 
sea  rising  and  falling  along  these  shallow  waters.  Your 
gondolier  turns  east,  but  it  is  the  same  view  that  meets  you, 
only,  still  far  off,  you  may  see  other  islands  and  what  looks 
like  a  long,  low,  narrow  coast,  over  which  a  band  of  white 
foam-mist  seems  to  be  stealing  :  but  the  whole  world  here 
is  caught  in  a  smiling  and  serene  light,  a  touch  of  gold  is  on  the 
blue  and  grey  of  the  waters  that  lap  softly  or  impatiently 
about  your  boat  as  it  turns  in  answer  to  the  oar.  As  in 
a  dream  you  glide  along  the  seashore  of  the  Giudecca. 
There  are  no  buildings  here  or  houses  at  all,  only  a  long  rosy 
wall  of  brick  overhung  by  vines  and  great  fig-tree  boughs  and 
the  flame-like  flowers  of  the  pomegranate.  In  the  soft 
summer  wind  the  olives  shade  into  silver ;  far  off  against  the 
apse  of  the  Redentore  two  cypresses  sway  a  little  and  are  still. 
Your  gondolier  steers  to  the  left,  you  enter  a  quite  deserted 
canal  between  some  old  houses  under  a  tower  and  a  broken 
look-out.  The  water  is  like  an  emerald  under  the  wall  where 
the  vines  dip  their  leaves.  Presently  you  come  to  a  little 
green  door  of  painted  wood  set  in  a  wall  of  plaster  and  hung 
with  an  iron  ring  for  knocker  and  a  rusty  bell-pull.  Here 
your  man  gently  comes  to  rest.  The  bell  is  rung,  the  door 
opened,  and  you  pass  with  a  quiet  welcome  not  into  a  house, 
for  there  is  no  house,  but  into  what  at  first  sight  seems  to  be 
a  courtyard  set  about  with  ilexes  and  tall  oleanders  white  and 
red,  and  between  the  olives  are  broken  statues  covered  with 
golden  lichen  and  stained  by  the  weather,  and  between  the 
oleanders  are  set  great  pots  of  oranges  and  lemons,  while  all 
before  you  stretches  a  green  vista  of  garden,  of  vineyard,  of 
olive  grove,  that  ends  at  last  in  the  sea.  It  is  there  you 
find  yourself  at  last  always,  at  the  end  of  that  vista,  in  a  little 
stone  temple-like  house,  with  grapes  before  you  on  the  cool 
stone  table,  watching  the  sun  set  over  the  wide  and  lonely 
lagoon,  waiting  for  the  wind  from  the  sea. 


THE  GIUDECCA  175 

At  first  what  you  see  is  a  study  in  purple  and  gold — the  gold 
of  the  sunset,  of  the  towers  and  cupolas  of  S.  Lazzaro,  of  the 
sand  of  the  Lidi,  and  the  purple  of  the  sky  and  of  the  sea ; 
but  slowly,  so  slowly  that  you  try  to  mark  each  change,  the 
whole  world  seems  to  glow  and  rather  to  give  light  to  the  sky 
than  to  receive  light  from  it.  The  gold  burns  into  flame,  the 
sea  changes,  and  instead  of  a  great  purple  flower  you  see  a 
great  opal  flaming  with  every  colour  in  your  heart;  the  wind 
comes  out  of  the  mystery  of  the  east,  and  the  whole  world 
seems  to  be  on  fire.  Then  over  those  beautiful  waters  come 
the  bells,  brazen  tongues  galloping  and  vibrating,  from  the 
city  and  the  islands,  and  the  light  dies  out  of  the  sky.  All 
you  see  is  a  study  in  grey  and  blue,  touched  faintly  here 
and  there  by  the  pale  gold  of  some  half-imagined  star.  As 
you  turn  to  find  your  gondola  far  away  over  the  Lido  you  see 
a  great  bird  silently  flying  into  the  night. 


XII 

THE  LIDO,  S.  LAZZARO,  S.  SERVOLO, 
AND  S.  ELENA 

IF  there  be  one  excursion  which  is  invariably  made  by  all 
visitors  to  Venice,  it  is  that  to  the  Lido,  which,  however, 
as  it  is  generally  undertaken  by  steamboat  and  for  the  purpose 
either  of  bathing  or  of  watching  others  bathe,  is  scarcely  worth 
the  trouble  of  the  journey.  Yet  the  Lido,  as  it  is  called,  is 
very  well  worth  a  visit  if  it  be  rightly  seen,  and  the  way  thither, 
if  made  in  a  gondola,  is  as  interesting  and  as  pleasant  as 
another.  But  how  many  are  there  among  the  many  thou- 
sands who  visit  Venice  annually  who  know  how  to  put  this 
journey  and  visit  to  their  proper  uses  ? 

As  I  see  it  there  are  but  two  ways  of  going  to  the  Lido, 
and  both  of  these  should,  if  possible,  be  undertaken  by  the 
traveller.  The  first  is  by  gondola,  and  should  occupy  an 
afternoon,  the  return  being  made  at  evening.  During  this 
visit  the  church,  fort,  and  cemetery  of  S.  Niccolb  should  be 
visited,  and  a  sight  obtained  of  the  Porto  di  Lido.  As  for 
the  bathing,  after  our  English  seas  the  sluggish  Adriatic  might 
seem  but  a  poor  substitute. 

The  second  way  in  which  the  Lido  should  be  visited  is  an 

affair  of  the  journey  only.     It  should  be  undertaken  at  night 

about  nine  o'clock,  and  the  best  way  to  get  the  utmost  out  of 

it  is  to  embark  on  one  of  the  little  steamers  at  the  Piazzetta 

station  and  to  go  and  return  in  her  without  landing.    Nothing 

the  traveller  will  see  elsewhere  by  daylight  will  impress  him 

half  so  much  with  the  true  character  of  Venice  and  the  won- 

176 


T**E  LIDO  177 

derful  night  beauty  of  the  city  as  this.  It  is  one  of  the  things 
the  easiest  to  do  and  the  best  worth  doing  while  one  is  in 
Venice,  and  not  one  in  a  thousand  tourists  ever  dreams  of 
doing  it.  Yet  it  is  only  on  such  a  dim  voyage  as  this  that 
Venice,  the  real  Venice,  can  be  found,  for  in  such  an  hour  she 
seems  to  be  risen  from  the  dead. 

But  whether  the  Lido  be  visited  after  all  by  daylight  or 
dark,  the  best  of  the  excursion  is  always  the  voyage,  the 
journey,  say,  by  gondola  in  the  afternoon  past  S.  Giorgio, 
down  the  beautiful  crescent  of  the  Riva  lined  with  ships,  out 
past  the  Public  Gardens  to  the  far-away  strip  of  seashore  we  call 
the  Lido.  The  islands  one  passes  on  the  way,  S.  Lazzaro  and 
S.  Servolo,  it  is  best  to  take  on  the  way  home ;  on  the  way 
out  we  give  ourselves  wholly  to  the  glittering,  dancing  joy  of 
the  great  sea  lane  down  which  we  pass  in  the  shadow  of  the 
great  ships,  till  at  last  we  drift  ashore  where  that  lane  turns 
south  and  land  at  the  Lido. 

But  what,  after  all,  we  may  well  ask  ourselves,  is  the  Lido, 
and  why  is  it  so  called  ?  If  it  be  an  island,  like  S.  Lazzaro, 
S.  Servolo,  and  S.  Giorgio  Maggiore,  why,  remembering  the 
great  church  which  stands  upon  it,  is  it  not  called  S.  Niccolo  ; 
and  if  it  be  not  an  island,  what  is  it  ? 

The  Lido,  as  all  the  world  unites  to  call  it,  is,  as  we  shall 
soon  see  if  we  take  the  trouble  to  examine  it  in  its  entire 
length  of  some  ten  miles,  certainly  an  island,  since  it  is  sur- 
rounded by  water,  but  it  differs  in  this  from  the  true  island  of 
the  lagoon,  that  it  is  surrounded  on  one  side  by  the  waters  of 
the  lagoon  and  on  the  other  by  the  sea.  It  is,  then,  as  its 
name  tells  us,  the  true  shore  of  Venice,  and  a  voyage  which 
took  in  the  whole  of  the  lagoon  would  show  us  that  of  all  the 
Lidi,  those  long  and  narrow  sandbanks  which  shut  in  the 
lagoon  from  the  sea,  and  between  which  at  the  various  Porti 
the  tide  rushes  so  swiftly,  it  is  this  which  is  most  truly  Vene- 
tian, for  in  its  whole  length  from  S.  Niccolo  and  the  Porto  di 
Lido  on  the  north  to  the  Forte  Rocchetta  and  the  Porto  di 
Malamocco  on  the  south,  it  completely  defends  Venice  from 
the  sea,  and  shuts  her  into  the  lagoon.     Thus  it  is  that  from 


178  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

Venice  there  are  but  two  ways  out  to  sea,  but  two  gates  by 
which  the  Venetian  fleet  might  sail  to  meet  its  enemy  :  the 
one  was  the  Porto  di  Malamocco  and  the  other  the  Porto 
di  Lido.  These  two  gates  are  set,  as  has  been  said,  at  the 
southern  and  northern  extremities  of  the  great  sandbank  we 
call  the  Lido,  and  they  are  now,  as  they  always  have  been, 
the  true  gates  of  Venice,  built  and  kept  largely  by  the  labour 
of  man.  But  the  Porto  di  Malamocco  is  some  ten  miles  from 
the  city  at  the  end  of  a  long  and  difficult  channel ;  it  has  thus 
always  been  the  lesser  in  importance  of  the  two.  For  the 
Porto  di  Lido  opposite  the  Castello  and  the  arsenal  of  the 
city,  is  so  close  at  hand  that  a  fishing-boat  sailing  out  from 
Veneta  Marina  can  by  this  gate  in  less  than  half  an  hour  gain 
the  open  sea.  Thus  it  is  that  the  Porto  di  Lido  has  always 
been,  and  remains  to-day,  the  great  sea  gate  of  Venice ;  and 
though  scarcely  a  tourist  among  the  thousands  who  visit  the 
Lido  ever  goes  so  far  as  S.  Niccolo  or  gets  a  sight  of  the 
Porto,  this  is  the  chief  reason  for  a  journey  thither,  and  for 
me,  at  least,  the  sole  reason  why  I  ever  go  there. 

For,  to  tell  the  bare  truth,  there  is  nothing  particularly 
Venetian,  nothing  charming  at  all  in  the  modern  Bagni  del 
Lido  and  the  large  and  vulgar  hotel  and  Casino,  which  are  all 
most  tourists  ever  see.  The  bathing,  as  I  have  said,  is 
mediocre,  and  must  be  indulged  in  the  company  of  a  host 
of  strange  folk  from  the  Germanies  and  I  know  not  where 
else,  which  makes  it  rather  curious  than  pleasant.  A  kind  of 
barbarism  I  have  met  with  nowhere  else  seems  here  to  be 
merely  the  custom.  The  sight  of  overfed,  fat,  and  disgusting 
figures  in  bathing  dresses  that  fit  like  a  glove  can  never  be  a 
pretty  sight.  Here  all  German  women  of  the  middle  class  of 
forty  and  upwards  use  such  costumes.  We  know  they  have 
no  claim  to  good  taste,  but  watching  them  one  might  think 
they  had  never  indulged  in  sea-bathing  before.  As  for  the 
men,  only  less  appalling  in  appearance  than  the  women,  their 
costume  consists  for  the  most  part  of  a  pair  of  small  drawers 
which  would  scarcely  pass  on  the  loneliest  Cornish  beach. 
Yet  it  is  the  mere  barbarism  of  these  people  and  their  ugliness 


THE  LIDO  179 

which  appals  one,  till  the  pathos  of  it  is  lost  in  disgust. 
I  find  bathing  as  delightful  as  most  healthy  people,  but  this 
mixed  crowd  of  more  than  naked  people  of  all  shapes,  sizes, 
and  deformities  is  so  pathetically  indecent  that  one  presently 
finds  it  only  horrible. 

All  this,  however,  serves  our  purpose  well  enough.  We 
could  not,  if  we  would,  linger  over  this  ugliness,  and  since 
there  is  but  little  else  to  do  but  to  bathe  and  to  eat  at  the 
Lido,  we  are  compelled  in  fear  of  boredom  to  set  out  for  Forte 
di  S.  Niccolo  and  the  Porto  di  Lido. 

That  is  a  good  way  that  takes  one  along  the  shore  beside 
the  sea,  but  if  it  seems  too  tiring  there  is  the  road  be- 
hind the  theatre.  Nevertheless  the  way  by  the  shore  should 
be  taken,  for  it  is  not  only  the  more  pleasant,  but  has 
memories  for  us  of  two  of  our  countrymen,  Shelley  and 
Byron,  who,  as  the  former  tells  us,  would  often  ride  here 
together : — 

"  I  rode  one  evening  with  Count  Maddalo 
Upon  the  bank  of  land  which  breaks  the  flow 
Of  Adria  towards  Venice.     A  bare  strand 
Of  hillocks  heaped  from  ever-shifting  sand, 
Matted  with  thistles  and  amphibious  weeds 
Such  as  from  earth's  embrace  the  salt  ooze  breeds, 
Is  this ;  an  uninhabited  sea-side, 
Which  the  lone  fisher,  when  his  nets  are  dried, 
Abandons.     And  no  other  object  breaks 
The  waste,  but  one  dwarf  tree,  and  some  few  stakes 
Broken  and  unrepaired ;  and  the  tide  makes 
A  narrow  space  of  level  sand  thereon, — 
Where  'twas  our  wont  to  ride  while  day  went  down. 
This  ride  was  my  delight.     I  love  all  waste 
And  solitary  places ;  where  we  taste 
The  pleasure  of  believing  what  we  see 
Is  boundless,  as  we  wish  our  souls  to  be  : 
And  such  was  this  wide  ocean,  and  this  shore 
More  barren  than  its  billows.     And,  yet  more 
Than  all,  with  a  remembered  friend  I  love 
To  ride  as  then  I  rode ; — for  the  winds  drove 
The  living  spray  along  the  sunny  air 
Into  our  faces ;  the  blue  heavens  were  bare, 


180  VENICE  AND   VENETIA 

Stripped  to  their  depths  by  the  awakening  north  ; 
And  from  the  waves  sound  like  delight  broke  forth, 
Harmonizing  with  solitude,  and  sent 
Into  our  hearts  aerial  merriment."  .  .  . 

The  Forte  S.  Niccolb,  to  which  one  presently  comes  along 
this  lean  shore,  guards  the  Porto  di  Lido.     Within  it  is  the 
old  Protestant  cemetery,  where  Sir  Francis  Vincent,  almost 
the  last  ambassador  Great  Britain  sent  to  the  Republic,  lies 
buried.     It  is  not  his  grave,  however,  that  has  brought  us  on 
this  long  pilgrimage,  but  the  Porto  di  Lido  itself.     Here  for 
more  than  eight  hundred  years  the  Doge  upon  Ascension  Day, 
in  the  name  of  Venice,  wedded  the  Adriatic.     The  ceremony 
arose  in  this  fashion.     As  we  have  seen,  before  the  end  of  the 
tenth  century  Venetian  commerce  had  already  grown  to  be  of 
considerable  importance,  but  it  was  always  at  the  mercy,  sea- 
borne as  it   was,   of  the   Dalmatian   pirates.     This  Venice 
suffered  till  the  great  Doge,  Pietro  Orseolo  II,  arose  in  991, 
and  began  to  make  preparations  to  stop  the  pirate  raids  once 
and  for  all.     He  first  of  all  got  a  Golden   Bull   from   the 
Emperor   Basil   of    Constantinople,   which   conferred    extra- 
ordinary privileges  upon  the  Venetian  merchants  in  the  East, 
and  in  return  the  Venetian  fleet  was  to  be  at  the  service  of 
Constantinople  for  the  transport  of  troops.    Having  thus  made 
treaty  with  the  suzerain  power,  the  Doge  decided,  with  the 
approval  of  the  people,  to  suppress  the  pirates.     This  was  the 
first  war  Venice  had  ever  undertaken.     On  Ascension  Day,  in 
the  year  998,  the  fleet,  under  the  command  of  the  Doge,  set 
sail  out  of  Porto   di   Lido,   took   Curzola  and   Lagosta  by 
assault,  and  was,  indeed,  entirely  successful,  the  Doge  return- 
ing with  the  title  Duke  of  Dalmatia,  conferred  upon  him  by 
the  grateful  Dalmatian  towns  which  the  pirates  had  continually 
spoilt.     For  a  hundred  and  eighty  years  thereafter  it  was  the 
custom   of  the   Doge,  the   Bishop,   and  the  officers  of  the 
Republic,  accompanied  by  the  people  in  a  great  crowd,  to  go 
out  by  water  to  the  Porto  di  Lido  on  Ascension  Day,  and 
there  to  perform  a  great  ceremony  in  memory  of  the  victory. 
Such  in  its  origin  and   beginning  was  the  Wedding  of  the 


THE  LIDO  181 

Adriatic.  Then  in  1177,  in  the  time  of  Doge  Ziani,  when 
Alexander  III  was  Pope,  Frederic  Barbarossa,  the  Emperor, 
who  hated  him,  proclaimed  an  antipope,  banished  Alexander 
from  Italy,  and  threatened  all  who  gave  him  shelter.  The 
Pope  came  to  Venice  incognito,  and  is  said  to  have  lived  as  a 
beggar,  or,  as  others  have  it,  to  have  taken  service  with  the 
religious  there  for  some  time.  When  he  was  recognized  the 
Doge  received  him  with  every  honour,  and  since  the  advan- 
tage of  Venice  seemed  to  jump  that  way,  took  his  part  against 
Frederic,  sent  envoys  and  orators  to  Pavia  to  remonstrate  with 
him  in  the  name  of  the  Republic,  and  to  suggest  that  a  meet- 
ing betwixt  Pope  and  Emperor  should  take  place  in  Venice. 
The  popular  Venetian  account  is  that  the  Emperor  refused  to 
acknowledge  Alexander.  Then  the  Doge,  when  he  learned 
this,  determined  on  war  and  made  it,  and  defeated  the 
Imperialists  at  the  battle  of  Salvore,  where  the  Emperor's  son 
was  taken  prisoner.  This,  however,  is  a  myth,  there  was  no 
such  battle ;  but  after  a  time  the  Emperor  agreed  to  come  to 
Venice,  and  was  there  received  in  the  atrium  of  St.  Mark's 
by  the  Pope,  supported  by  the  Doge.  He  knelt  humbly  and 
asked  forgiveness.  Yet  it  is  said  he  murmured  too,  "  Not  to 
you  do  I  kneel  but  to  Peter"  •  but  the  Pope  answered,  "Both 
to  me  and  to  Peter."  And  Frederic  said  no  more.  Then  the 
Venetian  legend  tells  how  the  Doge  escorted  the  Pope  and 
Emperor  so  far  as  Ancona  on  the  way  to  Rome,  and  there  the 
Pope  in  gratitude  presented  to  the  Doge  the  ring,  the  symbol 
of  supremacy  in  and  over  the  Adriatic,  which  he  thus  con- 
ferred upon  them.  From  that  time  forth  the  Doge  when  he 
went  out  to  Porto  di  Lido  on  Ascension  Day  wedded  the  sea 
with  this  ring,  for  the  legend  tells  us  that  this  in  turn  the 
Pope  required,  that  the  Doge  should  wed  the  sea  in  the  name 
of  Venice  as  one  weds  a  wife.  Thus  the  ceremony  which 
endured  till  Napoleon's  time  was  begotten.  The  Doge  and 
his  suite  in  a  great  vessel,  later  called  the  Bucentoro^  were 
rowed  by  many  banks  of  oars  out  to  the  Porto  di  Lido, 
followed  by  the  whole  concourse  of  the  people.  Arrived  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Porto,  the  vessel  was  turned  with  its  poop 


182  VENICE  AND  YENETIA 

to  the  sea,  the  Bishop  blessed  the  nuptial  ring  and  presented 
it  to  the  Doge,  then  he  poured  holy  water  into  the  sea,  where 
the  Doge  forthwith  cast  in  the  ring,  saying  :  "  Mare,  noi  ti 
sposiamo  in  segno  del  nostro  vero  e  perpetuo  dominio  "  ("  O 
sea,  we  wed  thee  in  sign  of  our  true  and  everlasting  dominion"). 
Such  was  the  ritual,  and  thus  was  built  up  in  the  hearts  of 
men  a  tradition  of  sea  power  and  sea  dominion  which  endured 
for  so  many  hundred  years. 

As  one  makes  one's  way  back  along  that  desolate  shore, 
thinking  of  Venice  then  and  now,  maybe  towards  sunset, 
we  shall  console  ourselves  only  with  the  lines  Shelley  wrote, 
remembering  this  very  place  : — 

M  As  those  who  pause  on  some  delightful  way, 
Though  bent  on  pleasant  pilgrimage,  we  stood 
Looking  upon  the  evening,  and  the  flood 
Which  lay  between  the  city  and  the  shore, 
Paved  with  the  image  of  the  sky.     The  hoar 
And  airy  Alps,  towards  the  north,  appeared 
Through  mist — an  heaven-sustaining  bulwark  reared 
Between  the  east  and  west ;  and  half  the  sky 
Was  roofed  with  clouds  of  rich  emblazonry, 
Dark  purple  at  the  zenith,  which  still  grew 
Down  the  steep  west  into  a  wondrous  hue 
Brighter  than  burning  gold,  even  to  the  rent 
Where  the  swift  sun  yet  paused  in  his  descent 
Among  the  many-folded  hills.     They  were 
Those  famous  Euganean  hills,  which  bear, 
As  seen  from  Lido  through  the  harbour  piles, 
The  likeness  of  a  clump  of  peaked  isles. 
And  then,  as  if  the  earth  and  sea  had  been 
Dissolved  into  one  lake  of  fire,  were  seen 
Those  mountains  towering,  as  from  waves  of  flame, 
Around  the  vaporous  sun ;  from  which  there  came 
The  inmost  purple  spirit  of  light,  and  made 
Their  very  peaks  transparent." 

All  the  way  back  to  Venice  from  the  Lido  at  sunset  those 
mountains,  like  "  a  clump  of  peaked  isles,"  stand  like  a  vision 
on  the  horizon  to  the  south  over  the  limitless  lagoon,  but  it  is 


S.  LAZZARO  183 

from  the  quiet  garden  of  S.  Lazzaro  that  I  have  most  often 
seen  them. 

The  island  of  S.  Lazzaro  is  close  to  the  Lido  landing-place, 
and  there  is  set  an  Armenian  convent  which  is  famous  by 
reason  of  the  fact  that  Byron  studied  Armenian  there  for 
some  months  during  his  long  stay  in  Venice  in  1816-17. 

"  By  way  of  divertissement,"  he  writes  to  Moore  in 
December,  18 16,  "I  am  studying  daily,  at  an  Armenian 
monastery,  the  Armenian  language.  I  found  that  my  mind 
wanted  something  craggy  to  break  upon ;  and  this,  as  the 
most  difficult  thing  I  could  discover  here  for  an  amusement,  I 
have  chosen,  to  torture  me  into  attention.  It  is  a  rich  lan- 
guage, however,  and  would  well  repay  anyone  the  trouble  of 
learning  it.  I  try,  and  shall  go  on  ;  but  I  answer  for  nothing, 
least  of  all  for  my  intentions  or  my  success.  There  are  some 
very  curious  MSS.  in  the  monastery,  as  well  as  books ;  trans- 
lations also  from  great  originals  now  lost,  and  from  Persian 
and  Syriac,  etc.,  besides  works  of  their  own  people.  Four 
years  ago  the  French  instituted  an  Armenian  professorship. 
Twenty  pupils  presented  themselves  on  Monday  morning,  full 
of  noble  ardour,  ingenuous  youth,  and  impregnable  industry. 
They  persevered,  with  a  courage  worthy  of  the  nation  and  of 
universal  conquest,  till  Thursday,  when  fifteen  of  the  twenty 
succumbed  to  the  six-and-twentieth  letter  of  the  alphabet.  It 
is,  to  be  sure,  a  Waterloo  of  an  alphabet — that  must  be  said 
for  them." 

As  for  the  convent  to-day,  it  is  one  of  the  quietest  and  most 
delightful  places  in  all  the  Venetian  islands.  The  monks  are 
busy,  cheerful,  and  most  courteous ;  they  still  possess  a  fine 
library,  for,  seeing  that  the  convent  is  under  the  protection  of 
Turkey,  Italy  has  not  dared  to  rob  them.  They  also  have 
now  a  printing  press,  which  in  Byron's  day  they  did  not 
possess,  if  one  may  judge  by  the  trouble  he  took  to  get  the 
Armenian  grammar,  composed  by  one  of  the  Fathers,  set  up 
and  printed  in  England.  It  was  his  design  that  the  faithful 
Murray,  who  sent  him  his  tooth  powder  and  his  magnesia  and 
published  his  poems,  should  publish  this  work  also.     This,  I 


184  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

think,  never  came  to  pass.  But  among  Lord  Byron's  papers 
there  was  discovered  the  Preface  he  wrote  for  the  work. 
There  he  speaks  of  this  convent. 

"  The  society  of  the  Convent  of  S.  Lazarus  appears  to 
unite,"  he  says,  "all  the  advantages  of  the  monastic  institu- 
tion without  any  of  its  vices.  The  neatness,  the  comfort,  the 
gentleness,  the  unaffected  devotion,  the  accomplishments,  and 
the  virtues  of  the  brethren  of  the  Order  are  well  fitted  to  strike 
a  man  of  the  world  with  the  conviction  that  '  there  is  another 
and  a  better '  even  in  this  life. 

"The  men  are  the  priesthood  of  an  oppressed  and  noble 
nation  which  has  partaken  of  the  proscription  and  bondage  of 
the  Jews  and  of  the  Greeks,  without  the  sullenness  of  the 
former  and  the  servility  of  the  latter.  The  people  have  attained 
riches  without  usury  and  all  the  honours  that  can  be  awarded 
to  slavery  without  intrigue.  But  they  have  long  occupied, 
nevertheless,  a  part  of  'the  House  of  Bondage '  which  has 
lately  multiplied  her  many  mansions.  It  would  be  difficult, 
perhaps,  to  find  the  annals  of  a  nation  less  stained  with  crimes 
than  those  of  the  Armenians,  whose  virtues  have  been  those 
of  peace  and  their  vices  those  of  compulsion.  .  .  ." 

Perhaps  we  know  more  of  the  Jews,  the  Greeks,  and  the 
Armenians  to-day  than  Byron  did.  At  any  rate,  we  are,  I 
hope,  less  likely  to  be  moved  by  their  "  misfortunes " ;  but, 
however  that  may  be,  no  one  who  finds  himself  in  Venice 
should  fail  to  visit  the  island  monastery  of  S.  Lazzaro.  Byron, 
with  all  his  eloquence  and  his  almost  daily  visits  to  the  con- 
vent, does  not  speak  of  what  for  most  of  us  always  remains,  I 
think,  the  most  charming  memory  of  our  visit — I  mean  the 
garden  of  the  monks,  which  is  planted  with  vines,  figs, 
oleanders,  almonds,  and  cypresses,  and  is  one  of  the  quietest 
and  most  beautiful  places  within  reach  of  the  city. 

Thence  we  see  not  far  away  across  the  lagoon  the  island  of  S. 
Servolo,  where  the  Emperor  Otho  III  stayed  in  hiding  when  he 
came  to  see  the  city  in  998.  He  had  heard,  it  seems,  of  the 
Venetian  treaty  with  the  Eastern  Emperor  and  of  the  great  fleet 
that  Venice  was  preparing  against  the  Dalmatian  pirates  that 


S.   SERVOLO  185 

was  soon  J  to  give  her  the  sovereignty  of  the  Adriatic,  and, 
pondering  on  these  things,  half  in  mere  curiosity  and  half  with 
a  political  intention,  he  determined  to  visit  Venice  and  the 
great  Doge,  Pietro  Orseolo.  One  night  in  the  moonlight  a  boat 
with  eight  rowers  might  have  been  seen  approaching  the 
island  of  S.  Servolo,  which  at  that  time  was  occupied  by  a 
half-ruined  Benedictine  monastery.  At  the  island  they  landed, 
and  on  knocking  at  the  door  of  the  monastery  two  of  them 
were  admitted  by  a  man  of  great  stature.  Presently  three 
came  out  where  two  had  gone  in,  and,  taking  a  smaller  boat 
that  lay  in  the  shadow,  they  set  out  with  two  rowers  for  the 
city.  Quite  through  the  city  they  went,  "  wherever  there  was 
anything  worthy  to  be  seen,"  but  no  one  noticed  them,  or 
if  they  did,  guessed  that  the  three  sitting  in  the  stern  were  the 
Emperor  Otho  III,  the  Doge  Pietro  Orseolo,  and  his  secretary, 
Paul  the  Deacon,  who  tells  the  tale. 

The  island  of  S.  Servolo  to-day  is  occupied  by  the  Lunatic 
Asylum  of  Venice,  built  in  1725. 

"  ■  Look,  Julian,  on  the  west,  and  listen  well 
If  you  hear  not  a  deep  and  heavy  bell.' 
I  looked,  and  saw  between  us  and  the  sun 
A  building  on  an  island ;  such  an  one 
As  age  to  age  might  add,  for  uses  vile — 
A  windowless,  deformed,  and  dreary  pile ; 
And  on  the  top  an  open  tower,  where  hung 
A  bell,  which  in  the  radiance  swayed  and  swung  ; 
We  could  just  hear  its  hoarse  and  iron  tongue. 
The  broad  sun  sank  behind  it  and  it  tolled 
In  strong  and  black  relief.     'What  we  behold 
Shall  be  the  madhouse  and  its  belfry  tower,' 
Said  Maddalo,  'and  even  at  this  hour 
Those  who  may  cross  the  water  hear  that  bell 
Which  calls  the  maniacs,  each  one  from  his  cell 
To  vespers.'" 

Further  away  beyond  S.  Servolo  towards  the  Public  Gardens 
is  the  island  of  S.  Elena,  once  lovely  and  occupied  by  a  great 
convent,  now  a  ruin,  an  island  of  graves  where  the  Giustiniani 
and  the  Loredani  sleep  in  peace.     Till  the  year  1880,  indeed, 


1 86  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

the  island  of  S.  Elena,  where  S.  Helena,  the  mother  of  the 
Emperor  Constantine,  a  British  woman  born  at  Colchester, 
was  buried,  was  one  of  the  loveliest  of  the  Venetian  islands  : 
"A  beautiful  Gothic  cloister  where  roses  and  jessamine  poured 
their  masses  of  blossom  over  the  parapets  and  a  large  garden 
with  exquisite  views  towards  S.  Pietro  and  Murano"  called 
every  traveller  in  Venice  to  this  shrine.  In  that  year,  however, 
the  cloister  was  delivered  over  to  an  iron  foundry,  and  the 
whole  place  has  become  one  with  the  modern  vileness  of  the 
world.  This  same  sort  of  thing  is  going  en  with  an  ever- 
increasing  horror  all  over  Italy,  and  indeed  all  over  the  world. 
Yet  any  protest  against  it  seems  to  excite  all  the  villainy 
latent  in  human  nature,  as  though  indeed,  as  one  is  often 
tempted  to  think,  before  destroying  us  the  gods  had  made 
us  mad. 


XIII 

THE   ISLANDS  OF   S.  MICHELE  AND 
MURANO 


u 


TO  leave  Venice  behind,  with  all  its  curious  bustle  and  air 
of  business,  its  rushing  steamers  and  pushing  tourists, 
becomes,  I  think,  ever  more  and  more  the  need  of  the 
traveller  who  has  lingered  with  her  perhaps  too  long,  perhaps 
not  long  enough,  for  his  content.  But  you  will  not  leave  her 
behind  if  you  go  to  the  Giudecca,  and  certainly  you  will  not 
do  so  by  going  to  the  Lido ;  to  be  free  of  her,  to  possess  the 
true  lagoon,  your  road  lies  northward  towards  Murano,  or, 
better  still,  to  far  Burano  and  Torcello. 

I  know  of  few  more  delicious  ways  of  spending  a  summer 
evening"  than  to  order  your  gondola  about  four  or  five  o'clock, 
and  after  passing  quite  across  Venice  to  come  out  by  the 
Fondamenta  Nuova  and  so  to  pass  slowly,  slowly,  in  the 
lowering  sunlight  across  those  bright  and  silent  waters  that 
lie  between  S.  Michele  and  Venice,  between  S.  Michele  and 
Murano.  For  it  is  the  lagoon  that  remains  still  to  us.  All 
else  has  suffered  an  immeasurable  change.  Venice,  let  us 
make  no  mistake  about  it,  is  nothing  now  but  make-believe ; 
the  steamers  that  rush  and  shriek  up  and  down  the  Grand 
Canal  are  as  bad  as  any  motor  omnibus,  and  they  have  utterly 
changed  what  was  a  city  of  silence  and  peace  into  a  worse 
pandemonium  than  Naples  or  Rome ;  and  if  one  should  be  so 
unfashionable  as  to  abhor  all  this  noise,  this  crushing  of  the 
crowd,  this  rubbing  of  shoulders,  this  much  ado  about  nothing, 

187 


i88  VENICE  AND   VENETIA 

there  is  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  is  to  leave  Venice 
altogether  and  to  escape  into  the  lagoon  to  discover  and  to 
wander  among  the  islands  there.  Let  the  traveller,  the  un- 
fashionable traveller  for  whom  I  have  always  written,  remember 
— and  I  think  he  is  not  likely  to  forget  it — that  he  will  not  be 
able  to  see  Venice,  to  enjoy  Venice,  and  to  escape  all  this 
horrible  business  by  hiring  a  gondola  and  rowing  about  the 
city.  In  a  gondola  to-day  he  is  actually  more  at  the  mercy  of 
the  crowd  than  in  a  steamboat.  In  the  Grand  Canal  he  will 
always  go  at  the  risk  of  his  life  or,  at  any  rate,  of  his  comfort, 
because  the  wash  of  these  accursed  steamboats  is  such  that 
when  one  comes  by — and  one  is  always  coming  by,  and  often 
two — he  will  be  thrown  and  hurled  about  till  he  is  bruised 
and  half  sick,  and  the  stench  cast  up  by  the  churned  waters 
will  presently  make  him  heartily  sorry  he  ever  set  out.  Nor 
will  he  escape  the  general  beastliness  by  taking  to  the  side 
canals;  as  he  passes  under  the  little  bridges  it  will  be  a 
miracle  if  he  be  not  spat  upon,  and  every  time  he  lands  to  see 
a  church  a  crowd  of  wastrels  will  assault  him  and  demand 
money  not  for  any  reason  or  service,  for  they  are  incapable  of 
either,  but  because  he  is  a  "  tourist "  and  they  are  "  the  people." 
After  trying  every  way  and  every  cunning  and  expedient,  after 
being  battered  for  weeks  by  "  the  people,"  spat  upon,  cursed, 
swamped  in  the  Grand  Canal  and  all  but  capsized  in  the  Canal 
della  Giudecca,  after  struggling  for  my  tea  every  evening  for  a 
month  in  the  Piazza,  after  being  awakened  every  morning  at 
five  by  the  hooters  of  the  factories  and  the  sirens  of  the 
steamers,  and  dazed  all  day  with  the  all  but  universal  German 
tongue,  I  escaped,  I  escaped  to  Murano.  There  at  least  was 
the  wreck  of  an  old  peace,  there  at  least  I  found  a  memory  of 
quietness,  a  shred  of  decency  and  politeness,  a  shadow,  some- 
thing I  thought  above  rubies,  of  an  ancient  dignity  in  human 
nature,  and,  above  all  perhaps,  I  no  longer  heard  the  Piazza 
di  S.  Marco  referred  to  on  all  sides  as  the  "  Marcus  Platz." 
I  do  not  claim — far  from  it — that  Murano  is  perfect ;  it  only 
seemed  to  me  something  to  be  thankful  for,  as  even  a  Liberal 
Government  does  after  the  appalling  brutality  and  ignorance 


S.   MICHELE  189 

revealed  by  a  General  Election.  As  a  fact,  I  soon  left  Murano, 
for  I  found  something  far  better,  worth,  indeed,  its  weight  in 
gold ;  but  the  ordinary  traveller,  even  though  he  be  unfashion- 
able, has  come  to  see  Venice,  which  he  cannot  do  from  my 
refuge.  To  see  Venice  he  must  live  in  Venice ;  but  Murano 
and  the  way  thither  offers  him  a  delightful  rest  from  his  labour 
and  a  real  consolation,  I  think,  in  the  midst  of  his  disillusion.  C 

For  once  out  beyond  the  Fondamenta  Nuova  all  is  peace. 
The  steamers  are  few  and  very  far  between  and  their  route  is 
not  yours.  In  your  gondola  you  are  free,  you  may  go  where 
you  will  if  the  tide  be  not  very  low,  and  the  whole  of  that  wide 
and  beautiful  world  is  yours.  And  how  wide  it  is  !  In  the 
foreground  and  very  near,  it  is  true,  lies  the  island  of  S. 
Michele,  the  cemetery  island,  to  which  you  may  see,  perhaps, 
a  gondola  with  a  black  flag,  a  priest  in  the  stern,  and  a  flower- 
covered  burden  in  the  bows  making  its  way ;  and  beyond,  but 
still  not  very  far  off,  lies  Murano  with  its  two  beautiful  Cam- 
panili.  But  to  the  east  there  is  so  wide  an  expanse  of  still 
water,  out  of  which  here  and  there  emerge  shadowy  Campanili 
or  the  faintest  mirage  of  a  church  or  a  town,  that  it  seems — 
as  indeed  it  is — a  quiet  world  of  dreams.  At  first  all  the  west 
is  blocked  by  the  great  bridge  by  which  the  railroad  reaches 
Venice,  but  presently  as  you  pass  further  on  your  way  this 
sinks  into  its  proper  insignificance  and  the  world  stretches 
away  under  the  gold  of  the  sun  to  those  blue,  far-off,  islanded 
hills  that  are  the  Euganean.  Here  and  there  in  the  soft 
summer  sky  a  great  white  cloud  loiters  on  its  way,  and  these, 
like  the  lovely  scene  over  which  they  cast  so  deep  a  shadow, 
are  eternal  things.  A  flutter  of  smoke,  maybe,  hovers  over 
the  chimneys  of  the  glass  factories  at  Murano,  but  even  that 
is  very  old  and  has  appeared  in  this  landscape  for  very  many 
centuries.  You  will  meet  here  no  strangers ;  you  may  forget 
what  fools  call  progress  and  criminals  "progressive  politics" 
and  "social  movements,"  for  the  one  is  made  of  noise  and 
lies,  and  here  is  quietness  and  honesty,  and  the  other  is  all  of 
discontent  and  hatred,  and  here  is  happiness  and  charity,  i  For 
where  will  you  find  more  love  than  in  the  heart  of  Death,  who 


190  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

notes  all  these  poor  people  in  Venice  and,  however  noisy  and 
noxious  and  wicked  they  be,  gives  them  all  quietness  at  last 
and  establishes  them  according  to  their  hearts'  desire,  making 
them  landowners  of  six  foot  or  so  in  this  island  of  S.  Michele, 
which,  small  though  it  be,  has  yet  room  in  it  for  all  Venice  ? 
What  satisfaction  there  is  in  that ! 

The  island  of  S.  Michele,  until  the  year  1810,  had  been  for 
some  six  hundred  years  in  the  occupation  of  the  Order  of  the 
Camaldolesi.  In  those  days  the  present  S.  Michele  consisted 
of  two  islands,  S.  Michele  and  S.  Cristoforo  della  Pace ;  but 
in  1 8 10  the  canal  which  divided  them  was  filled  up  and  the 
whole  became  a  cemetery,  the  convent  of  the  Camaldolesi 
passing  to  the  Friars  Minor  Riformati.  The  Church  of  S. 
Cristoforo,  a  fine  work  by  Pietro  Lombardo,  was  destroyed, 
and  the  precious  works  of  art  which  it  contained  either 
perished  with  it  or  were  carried  and  sold  out  of  Italy.  Among 
those  destroyed  were  an  altarpiece  by  Giovanni  Bellini  and 
another  by  Francesco  Guardi ;  but  a  beautiful  Madonna  and 
Child  by  Alvise  Vivarini  and  a  triptych  by  some  followers 
of  Basaiti  are  now  in  Berlin.  The  only  work  once  in  S. 
Cristoforo  that  still  remains  in  Italy  is,  I  think,  the  Madonna 
with  Saints,  a  work  by  Basaiti,  now  in  S.  Pietro  Martire  at 
Murano. 

Then  in  1872  a  new  cemetery  embracing  the  old  was  built 
on  the  island,  and  is  reached  from  the  beautiful  fifteenth- 
century  church  of  S.  Michele,  where  the  Cappella  Emiliana 
is  the  work  of  Guglielmo  Bergamesco.  Here  are  some  fine 
reliefs  in  the  manner  of  Sansovino.  The  church  was  once 
full  of  fine  paintings.  Here  of  old  was  the  Santa  Margherita 
of  Giulio  Romano,  now  in  Vienna,  a  triptych  and  a  Resur- 
rection by  Giovanni  Bellini,  and  a  work  by  Cima.  All  three 
are  now  in  the  Berlin  Gallery. 

From  the  church  we  pass  into  the  beautiful  cloister  of  the 
Camaldolesi,  where  Gregory  XVI,  who  was  a  monk  here,  must 
often  have  walked.  It  was  rebuilt  in  1469,  and  is  a  work  of 
the  Lombardi. 

But  S.  Michele  will  not  keep  us  long,  for  the  true  goal  of 


MURANO  191 

our  journey  is  Murano,  if  indeed  we  have  a  goal,  if  the  beauty     s^ 
and  silence  of  the  way  be  not  in  themselves  worth  all  the  rest 
beside.  ' 

In  the  days  of  the  greatness  and  splendour  of  Venice 
Murano  was  one  of  the  most  famous  and  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  islands  in  the  lagoon.  "  In  the  fifteenth  and  six- 
teenth centuries,"  the  Abate  Vincenzo  Zanelli  tells  us, 
"  Murano  had  thirty  thousand  inhabitants,  while  to-day  it 
boasts  but  five  thousand."  It  was  chiefly  given  over  to  the 
manufacture  of  that  famous  Venetian  glass,  a  craft  which  in 
our  own  time  has  once  more  been  revived.  But  it  was  also 
full  of  vineyards  and  olive  gardens,  and  supported  a  happy 
as  well  as  an  industrious  population.  And  in  those  days  there 
were  gardens  there,  on  that  red  and  green  island,  gardens  as 
famous  as  their  owners — Andrea  Navagero,  Bembo,  Aretino, 
Aldo.  Where  are  they  gone,  what  has  become  of  the  luxurious 
convents  where  Ancilla  Soranzo  walked  in  her  laces,  where 
Cipriana  Morosini  smiled,  and  Beatrice  Falier,  Eugenia 
Muschiera,  and  Zanetta  Balbi  listened  to  the  secret  love  of 
many  a  licentious  patrician,  while  the  waters  lapped  the  walls 
of  the  gardens  where  they  wandered  and  the  wind  passed 
like  a  ghost  through  the  olives  ?  They  are  all  gone,  their 
beautiful  names  are  forgotten.  Murano  knows  them  no  more. 
To-day  all  her  old  life  is  gone  out.  Only  the  flame  of  her 
furnaces  roars  as  of  old,  and  the  blowing-irons  are  still  busy, 
and  her  sons  still  shape  harmonious  vases  in  the  shadow  and 
glow  of  the  workshops.  Murano  is  still  the  island  of  glass. 
You  may  see  them  there  beside  the  furnace,  the  men  of 
Murano,  the  heirs  of  the  great  craftsmen,  handling  their  tools 
even  to-day  with  something  of  the  old  mastery.  At  the  end 
of  the  blowing-irons,  inspired  by  their  breath,  the  molten  glass 
swells,  twists,  becomes  silvery  in  a  little  cloud,  shines  like  a 
moon,  crackles,  divides  into  a  thousand  fine  glittering  frag- 
ments, finer  than  the  webs  of  the  finest  dew  sprinkled  at  dawn . 
The  apprentices  still  place  the  pear-shaped  mass  of  burning 
waste  in  the  spot  appointed  by  the  master,  and  the  mass  at  his 
will  still  lengthens  out,  twists,  and  transforms  itself  into  some 


i92  VENICE  AND   VENETIA 

lovely  and  useful  shape — a  perfect  vase,  or  a  handle  or  rim, 
a  spout  or  a  foot  or  a  fragile  stem — till  you  wonder  to  see  it, 
for  in  that  craft  there  is  no  gesture  that  is  not  noble,  mys- 
terious, delicate,  and  full  of  mastery.  It  is  an  old  art  that 
the  machine  has  not  yet  spoiled,  that  still  lies  in  the  hands 
of  man.  And  its  home  is  this  melancholy,  half-forgotten 
island,  where  the  green  opalescent  water  floats  over  the  long 
weeds  in  the  broad  waterways  in  the  midst  of  the  lagoon 
■f^\i  where  the  landscape  stretches  far  away,  in  long  lines  of 
silence. 
f^-Jk  \°*  ^— """There  is  little  strictly  to  be  seen  in  Murano.  One  wanders 
j*>  about  the  half-deserted  streets  in  a  town  that  is  shrunken  into 
itself,  that  is  evidently  very  old,  but  with  only  a  few  marks 
here  and  there  of  the  nobility  of  age — in  the  Church  of  S. 
Pietro  Martire,  in  the  gaunt  Duomo  of  S.  Donate  Only 
everywhere  the  silence  and  loneliness  of  the  lagoon  seem 
to  be  at  home  there;  the  space  of  those  wide  horizons,  the 
dome  of  that  clear  sky,  like  a  clear  globe  of  glass,  surround 
it  with  an  immense  quietness  that  nothing  would  seem  able 
to  break. 

In  S.  Pietro  Martire,  a  large  and  simple  basilica  built  in 
1507,  is  a  large  altarpiece  by  Giovanni  Bellini  of  the  Madonna 
and  Child  enthroned  under  a  canopy  about  which  twelve 
seraphim  are  floating  and  beside  which  two  angels  make 
music.  Before  Madonna  the  Doge  Barbarigo  II  kneels  in  his 
robes  of  state,  introduced  by  S.  Andrea,  while  on  the  other 
side  S.  Augustine  stands  holding  his  book  and  his  crosier  • 
and  far  away  through  the  gardens  and  over  the  hills  stretches 
a  delicious  landscape  in  which  a  little  city  appears.  Here,  too, 
is  a  fine  picture  of  the  Madonna  in  glory  with  eight  saints,  by 
Marco  Basaiti.  Madonna  is  standing  on  a  little  cloud  that 
has  brought  her  from  Heaven  close  to  the  earth,  and  the 
eight  saints  stand  in  a  half-circle  beneath  her,  and  all  about 
her,  hiding  at  her  feet  or  in  the  rosy  clouds,  are  cherubim,  and 
the  whole  scene  is  set  in  a  delicious  landscape,  the  hills 
crowned  by  towers  strangely  like  those  of  Castelfranco.  Close 
by  is  a  Madonna  and  Child  enthroned  with  five  saints  by  the 


MURANO  193 

pseudo-Boccaccino,  and  not  far  away  a  fine  picture  of  S.Jerome 
in  the  desert  from  the  hand  of  Paolo  Veronese. 

But  interesting  and  charming  in  its  quietness  though  S. 
Pietro  may  be,  it  will  not  keep  us  long  from  S.  Donato — 
SS.  Maria  e  Donato  as  I  think  it  should  rightly  be  called. 
This  church  is  of  very  ancient  origin.  According  to  the 
legend — and  why  should  we  doubt  it  ? — the  church  was  founded 
by  Otho  the  Great,  to  whom  the  Blessed  Virgin  appeared, 
bidding  him  build  her  a  church  in  this  three-cornered 
meadow,  scattered  then  with  scarlet  lilies.  That  a  church 
existed  here  in  the  tenth  century  we  cannot  doubt,  for  its 
incumbent — the  incumbent  of  the  Basilica  di  Santa  Maria 
Plebania  di  Murano — took  an  oath  of  obedience  to  the  Bishop 
of  the  Altinat  church,  and  engaged  to  give  the  said  Bishop  his 
dinner  on  the  Domenica  in  Albis,  the  Sunday,  that  is,  next  after 
Easter  Day,  when  the  Bishop  was  used  to  hold  a  confirmation 
in  this  the  "  mother  church,"  as  it  was  called,  of  Murano.  So 
much  is  history.  Thus  the  church  was  first  S.  Maria  di 
Murano;  but  in  1125  the  Doge  Domenico  Michiel  brought 
hither  from  Cephalonia  the  body  of  S.  Donato  and  the  bones 
of  the  dragon  he  had  slain,  and  rebuilt  the  church,  which  was 
thenceforth  known  as  SS.  Maria  e  Donato.  The  greater  part 
of  the  church  remains  of  the  twelfth  century,  and  in  its  beauty 
and  antiquity,  apart  from  S.  Mark's  itself,  is  not  to  be  rivalled 
even  in  Venice. 

Ruskin,  not  always  to  be  followed  implicitly,  but  always  a 
rigid  upholder  of  such  facts  as  he  possessed,  tells  us  that  he 
believes  the  mosaic  floor  of  S.  Donato,  which  is  dated  n 40, 
to  be  the  latest  thing  in  it.  "  I  believe,"  he  says,  "  that  no 
part  of  the  ancient  church  can  be  shown  to  be  of  more  recent 
date  than  this ;  and  I  shall  not  occupy  the  reader's  time  by 
any  inquiry  respecting  the  epochs  or  the  authors  of  the 
destructive  modern  restorations;  the  wreck  of  the  old  fabric, 
breaking  out  beneath  them  here  and  there,  is  generally  dis- 
tinguishable from  them  at  a  glance;  and  it  is  enough  for 
the  reader  to  know  that  none  of  these  truly  ancient  fragments 
can  be  assigned  to  a  more  recent  date  than  1140,  and  that 
o 


194  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

some  of  them  may  with  probability  be  looked  upon  as  remains 
of  the  shell  of  the  first  church  erected  in  the  course  of  the 
latter  half  of  the  tenth  century." 

The  church  is  a  large  basilica  of  yellow  brick,  and  both 
from  within  and  from  without  its  most  remarkable  feature 
is  its  semicircular  apse.  Without,  it  consists  of  two  beautiful 
arcaded  stories,  the  upper  balustrated,  intersected  by  a  double 
band  of  coloured  marbles  sculptured  with  exquisite  delicacy. 
Of  these  bands  Ruskin  says :  "  The  feature  which  is  most  to 
be  noted  in  this  apse  is  a  band  of  ornament  which  runs  round 
it  like  a  silver  girdle,  composed  of  sharp  wedges  of  marble 
preciously  inlaid  and  set  like  jewels  in  the  brickwork ;  above 
it  there  is  another  band  of  triangular  recesses  in  the  bricks 
of  nearly  similar  shape,  and  it  seems  equally  strange  that  all 
the  marbles  should  have  fallen  from  it  or  that  it  should  have 
been  originally  destitute  of  them.  .  .  .  The  lower  band  is 
fortunately  left  in  its  original  state,  as  is  sufficiently  proved 
by  the  curious  niceties  in  the  arrangement  of  its  colours, 
which  are  assuredly  to  be  attributed  to  the  care  of  the  first 
builder."  He  adds  that  "the  subtlety  and  perfection  of 
artistic  feeling  in  all  this  are  so  redundant,  that  in  the  building 
itself  the  eye  can  rest  upon  this  coloured  chain  with  the 
same  kind  of  delight  that  it  has  in  a  piece  of  the  embroidery 
of  Paul  Veronese."  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  this  apse 
is,  apart  from  the  balustrade,  part  of  the  original  earliest 
church. 

Within,  the  church  is  vastly  disappointing.  It  is  obvious  at 
once  that  it  has  suffered  from  innumerable  restorations  at  all 
sorts  of  different  times,  and  that  as  an  architectural  monu- 
ment with  any  sort  of  unity  it  has  long  since  ceased  to  exist. 
It  has,  however,  several  beautiful  and  many  interesting  details. 
The  pavement,  irregular  as  the  surface  of  the  sea  itself,  is  still 
left  almost  entire,  though  grievously  defaced.  It  is  of  very 
great  interest,  and  dates,  as  has  been  said,  from  1140.  But 
it  is  obvious  that  what  was  once  a  complete  and  perfect  work 
of  art,  richer  than  any  Eastern  carpet,  has  been  broken  up  in 
too  many  places,  and  at  too  many  different  periods,  for  us  to 


MURANO  195 

be  able  to  get  more  than  a  vision  of  what  it  once  was  from 
what  remains.  It  might  seem  that  whenever  a  new  chapel  was 
to  be  built  or  a  new  altar  erected  the  pavement  there  was  ruth- 
lessly destroyed,  for  men  will  never  understand  that  in  art 
especially  all  "  progress "  is  not  only  impossible  of  achieve- 
ment, but  impossible  of  conception.  A  work  of  art  is  complete 
and  perfect,  finished  from  the  beginning,  or  it  does  not  exist. 
If  one  tries  to  better  it,  the  result  is  spoliation,  for  in  "  better- 
ing" it  one  has  either  made  a  new  thing  or  one  has  done 
nothing.  It  is  only  in  the  futile  and  mortal  things  of  life 
that  there  can  be  progress,  and  it  is  perhaps  that  which 
gives  us  so  profound  a  disgust,  so  scornful  a  contempt  of 
them.  There  is  no  progress  in  the  soul  of  man.  There  is 
only  revelation  of  what  was  there  from  the  beginning.  There 
is  no  progress  in  nature.  What  we  see  to-day  our  fathers  saw, 
or  might  have  seen.  But  we  are  enthralled  by  the  clap-trap 
of  fools,  and  "  progress  "  is  now  their  favourite  self-deception. 
So  it  is  here,  as  we  see,  in  the  wreck  of  what  was  once  a  very 
beautiful  building  of  the  tenth  century.  The  men  of  the 
twelfth  century,  in  the  pride  of  their  ignorance,  thought  they 
could  better  it,  and  they  set  about  this  hopeless  task  instead 
of  devoting  themselves  to  a  creation  of  their  own.  Then  came 
in  the  Renaissance,  with  all  the  confidence  of  a  nouveau  riche^ 
and  decorated  the  arches  with  much  self-approval,  precisely 
as  some  vulgarian  of  to-day  redecorates  an  old  Tudor  house 
that  we  in  our  folly  have  allowed  him  to  buy  and  he  in  his 
thinks  he  can  make  his  own.  Though  he  were  as  rich  as 
all  the  children  of  his  house  of  Israel  he  can  do  nothing 
there,  where  he  will  remain  an  alien,  if  he  remain  at  all,  til' 
Doomsday.  In  just  the  same  way,  and  indeed  with  no  less 
vulgarity  either,  the  Renaissance  appears  here  as  alien  as  the 
Jew  in  Hampshire  or  Kent.  We  smile  at  this  upholstery,  and, 
though  in  so  doing  we  doubtless  forget  our  own,  we  do  right. 
The  stucco  roses  in  squares  under  the  soffits,  the  egg  and  arrow 
mouldings  in  the  architraves,  gilded,  on  a  ground  of  spotty 
green  and  black,  with  pink-faced  cherubs  on  every  key- 
stone— what  are  they  but  ridiculous,  ridiculous  and  a  shame  ? 


^ 


196  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

Yet,  as  many  a  church  up  and  down  Italy  can  bear  witness, 
as  many  a  church  in  Venice  will  assure  us,  I  hope,  always, 
when  it  began  to  create  anew  the  Renaissance  could  achieve 
things  as  marvellous  as  the  work  of  the  Middle  Age. 

It  is  with  joy,  then,  we  discover  at  last  that  the  fussy  and 
vulgar  work  of  the  Renaissance  here  in  S .  Donato  has  not 
overwhelmed  quite  all  its  original  beauty  and  delight.  In  the 
shadow  of  the  apse,  on  a  dim  field  of  gold,  slowly,  gradually, 
we  discern  a  marvellous  figure,  the  Blessed  Virgin,  who,  with 
uplifted,  delicate  hands,  blesses  us  from  very  long  ago.  Her 
robe  is  deep  blue  fringed  with  gold  ;  for  as  Sansovino  tells  us, 
and  Ruskin  reminds  us,  "The  women,  even  as  far  back  as 
1 1 00,  wore  dresses  of  blue  with  mantles  on  the  shoulder, 
which  clothed  them  before  and  behind."  Round  the  semi-dome 
runs  a  finely  coloured  mosaic  border;  and  there  in  great 
letters  all  may  read — 

"Quos  Eva  contrivit,  pia  Virgo  Maria  redemit; 
Hanc  cuncti  laudent,  qui  Christi  munere  gaudent." 

(Whom  Eve  destroyed,  the  pious  Virgin  Mary  redeemed ; 
all  praise  Her  who  rejoice  in  the  Grace  of  Christ.)  Thus  is 
the  church  signed  as  Her  own.  As  for  our  S.  Donato, 
there  is  an  old  wooden  tablet  carved  into  a  rude  effigy  of  him 
in  the  lower  part  of  the  tribune. 

That  exquisitely  lovely  mosaic  is  the  last  thing  of  much  in- 
terest in  the  church :  the  frescoes  beneath  it  are  of  the  fifteenth 
century  and  uninteresting ;  but  in  the  left  aisle  there  is  a  fine 
altarpiece  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  with  saints  and  angels 
by  Lorenzo  Bastiani ;  yet  I,  for  one,  though  there  were  nothing 
else  in  Murano  and  it  were  a  desert,  would  be  glad  to  visit  it 
so  that  I  might  gaze  upon  that  mosaic  of  the  twelfth  century, 
might  look  into  that  sad  face  and  feel  the  benediction  of  those 
uplifted  hands. 

And  in  truth  there  is  little  else  to  see.  J  Murano,  once, 
we  hear,  "a  terrestrial  paradise — a  place  of  nymphs  and 
demigods,"  is  now,  in  fact,  nothing  more  than  a  rather  dreary 


MURANO  197 

little  island  full  of  glass-makers.  The  decline  and  fall  of  the 
Venetian  Republic,  the  decay  of  Venice  herself,  has  been  felt 
more  in  these  outlying  places  than  in  the  city  ;  only  they 
have  largely  escaped  her  vulgarisation  and  are  still  the  poor 
dwelling-places  of  the  poor  who  in  a  certain  quietness  and 
sincerity  live  here  as  best  they  may.  And  I  think  they  are 
fortunate  and  happy.  The  revival  of  the  glass-making  has 
assured  them  of  food  and  clothing;  and  if  they  would  be 
content  and  refrain  from  the  more  glaring  absurdities  of  that 
Socialistic  anarchy  which  threatens  all  of  us  so  wilfully,  I 
think  there  are  even  many  everywhere  who  might  well  envy 
them.  For  their  industry  is  not  a  newfangled  business 
thrust  upon  them  by  the  pity  of  the  charitable  :  it  is  in 
their  bones — they  are  in  accord  with  their  ancestors.  An 
Englishman,  James  Howell,  writes  thus  of  Murano  in  a  letter 
dated  from  Venice  30  May,  162 1  :  "I  was,  since  I  came 
hither,  in  Murano,  a  little  Island  about  the  distance  of  Lam- 
beth from  London,  where  Crystal-Glass  is  made ;  and  'tis  a 
rare  sight  to  see  a  whole  Street,  where  on  the  one  side  there 
are  twenty  Furnaces  together  at  work.  They  say  here  that 
altho'  one  should  transplant  a  Glass-Founder  from  Murano  to 
Venice  herself,  or  to  any  of  the  little  Assembly  of  Islands 
about  her,  or  to  any  other  part  of  the  Earth  besides  and  use 
the  same  Materials,  the  same  Workmen,  the  same  Fuel,  the 
self  same  Ingredients  every  way,  yet  they  cannot  make  Crystal- 
Glass  in  that  perfection,  for  beauty  and  lustre,  as  in  Murano  : 
Some  impute  it  to  the  quality  of  the  circumambient  Air  that 
hangs  o'er  the  Place  which  is  purify'd  and  attenuated  by  the 
concurrence  of  so  many  Fires  that  are  in  those  Furnaces  Night 
and  Day  perpetually,  for  they  are  like  Vestal-fire  which  never 
goes  out.  And  it  is  well  known,  that  some  Airs  make  more 
gratifying  Impressions  than  others.  .  .  ." 

That  letter  was  written  about  sixteen  years  after  Girolamo 
Magnati  di  Murano  had  discovered  how  to  colour  glass  and 
yet  to  keep  its  lustre  and  transparency.  But  it  is  the  true  art 
of  the  Murano  workmen  to  which  Howell  refers  in  another 
letter  of  the  same  year. 


ig8  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

"The  art  of  Glass-making,"  he  tells  his  brother,  "is  here 
highly  valued  ;  for  whosoever  be  of  that  Profession  are  Gentle- 
men ipso  facto.  .  .  .  When  I  saw  so  many  sorts  of  curious 
Glasses  made  here  I  thought  upon  the  Compliment  which  a 
Gentleman  put  upon  a  Lady  in  England,  who  having  five  or 
six  unruly  Daughters,  said  He  never  saw  in  his  life  such  a 
dainty  cupboard  of  Crystal  Glasses.  The  Compliment  pro- 
ceeds, it  seems,  from  a  Saying  they  have  here,  That  the  first 
handsome  Woman  that  ever  was  made,  was  made  of  Venice 
Glass  which  implies  Beauty,  but  Brittalness  withal,  and  Venice 
is  not  unfurnish'd  with  some  of  that  Mould,  for  no  place 
abounds  more  with  Lasses  and  Glasses  .  .  .  But  when  I  pry'd 
into  the  Materials  and  observ'd  the  Furnaces  and  Calcinations, 
the  Transubstantiations,  the  Liquefactions  that  are  incident 
to  this  Art,  my  thoughts  were  raised  to  a  higher  Speculation  ; 
that  if  this  small  Furnace-fire  hath  virtue  to  convert  such  a 
small  lump  of  dark  Dust  and  Sand  into  such  a  precious  clear 
Body  as  Crystal,  surely  that  Grand  Universal  Fire  which  shall 
happen  at  the  Day  of  Judgment  may  by  its  violent  ardour 
vitrify  and  turn  to  one  lump  of  Crystal  the  whole  Body  of  the 
Earth ;  nor  am  I  the  first  that  fell  upon  this  Conceit." 


XIV 

THE  ISLANDS  OF  BURANO,  TOR- 
CELLO,  AND  S.  FRANCESCO 
DEL    DESERTO 

THE  journey  to  Murano  is  very  easily  made  even  by 
gondola  between  the  cool  of  the  day  and  sunset,  but 
that  to  Burano,  Torcello,  and  S.  Francesco  del  Deserto  is 
somewhat  more  formidable.  This  group  of  islands,  the  most 
beautiful  and  the  most  interesting  in  the  whole  length  of 
lagoons,  lies  some  seven  miles  or  so  to  the  north-east  of 
Venice.  It  is  true  that  Burano  and  Torcello  are  easily 
reached  by  steamer — indeed,  a  boat  leaves  the  Riva  every 
day  about  two  o'clock  and  returns  before  dusk  ;  but 
though  this  may  be  good  enough  for  the  mere  tourist,  it 
leaves  one  but  little  time  to  see  either  of  the  two  larger 
islands  and  none  at  all  to  visit  S.  Francesco.  Most  people 
will,  however,  refuse  to  spend  a  night  in  Burano,  and  in  that 
case  the  only  satisfactory  way  is,  I  suppose,  to  take  the  steamer, 
though  even  in  such  circumstances  I  should  prefer  to  leave 
Venice  in  a  gondola,  with  two  rowers,  about  eight  o'clock  or 
earlier,  to  spend  the  day  among  the  islands  and  to  row  back 
with  songs  at  twilight.  For  myself,  however,  I  confess 
neither  of  these  plans  had  any  appeal.  I  first  saw  Torcello 
from  Murano,  going  by  barge  and  sailing  thither,  and  having 
once  set  eyes  upon  it,  my  whole  thought  was  to  return  thither 
as  soon   as   possible  and  to  remain  there — how  often   one 

determines  on  this  ! — for  ever.     I  was  sick  of  Venice,  that  was 

199 


200  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

the  truth — sick  of  her  noise  and  her  tourists  and  her  modern 
bustle,  the  fight  with  the  steamers  on  the  Grand  Canal,  the 
struggle  every  morning  to  get  by  the  touts  of  the  shopkeepers 
in  the  Piazza — sick  of  the  sirens  of  the  factories  and  the  guns 
of  the  Italian  fleet,  "L'  armata  d'  Italia  Bella  e  Terribile," 
as  the  Mayor  of  Venice  called  it  in  his  proclamation  which 
was  placarded  all  over  the  city — sick  most  of  all  of  my  own 
disappointment.  It  was  not  that  I  did  not  feel  the  beauty 
and  charm  of  the  place,  but  that  I  was  too  much  crowded  upon 
by  alien  things  to  enjoy  it.  Murano  was,  I  soon  discovered, 
but  a  very  poor  refuge.  I  knew  I  could  not  hold  out  there 
for  long,  and  I  was  thinking  already  of  Castelfranco  or  Burano 
when  one  summer  morning,  by  chance,  I  went  aboard  that 
great  barge  and  we  sailed  out  to  Torcello  shabbily  with  a 
cargo  of  red  pots.  And  when  I  had  seen  it  I  knew  that  I  had 
found  a  true  refuge  at  last. 

But  it  is  not  thus  the  traveller  will,  as  a  rule,  come  to 
Torcello.  He  will  leave  Venice  either  by  steamer  or  by 
gondola  and  will  come  first  to  Burano,  where,  if  he  come  by 
steamer,  he  will  have  half  an  hour  to  spend,  and  then  will  go 
on  to  Torcello,  whence  after  another  half-hour  he  will  set  out 
again  for  Venice.  Such  a  traveller  will  have  just  this  much  in 
common  with  us,  that  he  will  go,  if  the  tide  serve  by  much 
the  same  road. 

And  that  road  is  a  marvel.  To  begin  with,  one  proceeds 
much  as  though  going  to  Murano,  but  when  that  red  and 
green  island  is  left  behind,  the  whole  loneliness  of  the  lagoon 
closes  upon  one,  the  silence  and  the  glitter  and  the  sunshine 
over  the  far-stretching  waters  make  a  world  of  their  own  which 
takes  you,  for  all  your  modernity,  completely  to  itself,  till  you 
are  confounded  with  its  quietness.  It  is  a  world  of  great  and 
insecure  distances,  of  mirage,  of  fantastic  mists  and  soft  com- 
pelling winds,  and  there  are  scattered  strange  and  shapeless 
islands  covered  with  golden  grass  that  whispers  in  the  wind 
just  above  the  blue  and  opalescent  waters,  that  lap  upon  the 
low  shores,  where  there  is  no  life  but  the  life  of  birds  and 
a  human  voice  is   seldom  heard.     This  is  the  world  of  the 


BURANO  201 

lagoon,  and  it  seems  to  stretch  away  for  ever  and  to  form,  as 
in  fact  it  does,  a  strange  universe  of  its  own.  Sometimes,  far 
away  across  the  golden  marsh,  you  will  descry  a  sail  red  and 
flashing  in  the  sun  as  it  passes  down  an  invisible  road  to  or 
from  Burano  or  Mestre  to  the  sea ;  but  such  a  sail  you  will 
seldom  or  never  speak  :  it  will  always  remain  a  mystery  to  you, 
its  road  unknown,  its  business  inconceivable.  For  a  road  in 
such  a  place  as  this  seems  the  last  thing  you  might  look  for  ; 
and  yet,  as  you  soon  discover,  without  a  road,  and  that  well 
defined,  even  in  a  barge  you  would  certainly  run  ashore.  Every- 
where there  are  vast  beacons  standing  high  above  the  flood, 
and  between  them  great  piles  bound  with  iron  and  often 
bearing  the  image  or  the  shrine  of  a  saint,  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
S.  Mark,  S.  Clement,  or  S.  Peter,  to  keep  you  amid  all  the 
turnings  and  windings  of  the  way,  turnings  that  seem  purpose- 
less, windings  that  seem  to  be  part  of  a  game  for  children, 
in  the  deep  channel  and  in  safety.  To  the  experienced  eye 
the  road  is  plainly  set  by  day  and  lighted  too  by  night,  if 
only  by  the  little  lamps  of  the  shrines  that  are  set  above 
these  lonely  waters,  and  the  barge,  much  more  the  pushful 
and  noisy  steamer,  must  keep  to  that  road  or  go  aground.  It  is 
only  the  light,  adventurous  gondola,  so  individual  beside  the 
collectivism  of  the  steamer,  that  can  to  a  large  extent  neglect 
the  deep  channel  and  take  to  the  shallows  where  the  grasses 
float  and  shine  beneath  the  waters  and  the  fish  dart  to  and 
fro  in  the  shadow  of  your  boat  and  often  truly  between  your 
fingers.  And  here  it  is  that  the  gondolier  attains  to  his  full 
height,  notation,  and  majesty.  He  towers  upon  the  poop 
like  a  true  lord  or  captain  and  becomes,  in  fact,  the  most 
notable  landmark  anywhere  there;  visible  for  miles  across 
the  golden  marshes,  piloting  his  black  argosy  to  the  islands  of 
the  blest. 

It  seems  to  me,  as  I  look  back  upon  them,  that  the  hours  spent 
thus  amid  the  marshes  and  the  islands  upon  the  lagoon  were 
by  very  much  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  precious  of  all 
those  I  passed  in  the  Veneto.  I  found  all  I  hoped  for  and 
much  more  than  I  deserved  :  songs  that  are  hard  to  sing,  but 


202  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

beautiful  to  hear,  old  words,  old  airs,  old  lullabys,  a  clear  sky, 
a  soft  wind,  and  over  all  the  sun  shining  in  his  splendour, 
without  which  all  else  is  naught.  So  it  was  I  came  to  the 
island  of  Burano,  to  the  island  of  Baldassare  Galuppi,  one 
summer  morning  a  little  after  dawn,  where  the  men  are 
fishermen  and  the  women  thread  the  delicate  lace  more 
precious  than  diamonds  and  pearls.  You  may  see  some  fine 
antique  lace  for  the  altar  in  the  church,  the  work  of  long 
ago  and  of  an  incredible  beauty  and  loveliness ;  but  of  all  the 
Venetian  arts,  thanks  to  a  great  and  noble  lady,  this  is  the 
least  forgotten,  so  that  you  may  see  to-day  in  Burano  in  the 
little  hands  of  some  dark  Buranetta  as  fine  and  fair  lace  in 
the  making  as  ever  was  contrived  of  old,  and  this  is  the  chief 
sight  in  Burano.     Let  us  rejoice  at  it. 

Venice,  or  rather  the  island  of  Burano,  has  been  famous  for 
its  "  point "  lace  since  the  sixteenth  century,  and  we  may 
perhaps  fix  the  date  of  its  origin  by  the  sumptuary  laws  of 
the  Republic  in  the  fifteenth  century,  when  Venice  came  at 
last  to  be  a  city  of  infinite  luxury  and  wealth.  In  1474  the 
Provveditori  had  proscribed  certain  jewels,  and  in  15 14  the 
Republic  regulated  the  toilettes  of  private  individuals  as 
jealously  as  it  had  already  done  that  of  the  Dogaressa  ;  even 
the  dresses  of  the  courtesans  were  subject  to  law.  It  seems  to 
have  been  at  this  period  that  lace  came  into  fashion  and  grew 
in  favour,  till  in  the  seventeeth  century  the  Venetian  "  point  " 
was  invented.  The  character  of  this  "  punto  di  Venezia" 
consists,  it  seems,  in  ornaments  worked  in  high  relief, 
modelled  with  art,  and  disposed  in  petals  superimposed  by 
fantastic  flowers  of  thread,  rich,  and  marvellously  worked  and 
very  delicate.  All  is  done  with  the  needle.  But  long  before 
the  invention  of  the  "point,"  Venice  was  famous  for  its  lace. 
In  1483  lace  was  sent  from  Venice  to  England  for  the 
Coronation  of  Richard  III,  and  in  the  first  year  of  the  six- 
teenth century  so  universal  was  the  interest  taken  in  the  craft 
that  several  books  were  published  upon  it :  such  as  "  Esemplario 
dilavori  "(1529),  "Opera nova"  (1530),  "Gli  universal]'  dei  bei 
ricami"  (1537),  and  in  1578  we  have  record  of  special  orders 


BURANO  203 

sent  to  Venice  by  Bianca  Capello  against  her  marriage  with 
Grand  Duke  Francesco  of  Tuscany. 

The  lace-makers  of  Venice  had  always  been,  since  the  fif- 
teenth century,  under  the  protection  of  the  Dogaressa ;  thus 
Dandola,  the  wife  of  Doge  Pasquale  Malipiero,  had  protected 
the  industry,  as  did  later  Morosina  Morosini,  wife  of  Doge 
Marino  Grimani.  It  was  at  this  period  in  the  beginning  of 
the  seventeenth  century  that  the  craft  was  established  at 
Burano.  At  that  period  the  house  of  Ranieri  and  Gabrieli 
employed  some  six  hundred  persons  in  the  making  of  lace. 
But  in  the  decadence  of  the  Republic  the  craft  too  decayed, 
and  in  1845  it  was  only  in  the  island  of  Burano  that  any  lace 
was  made  at  all.  Twenty-seven  years  later,  in  1872,  it  was 
here  that,  thanks  to  the  noble  work  of  the  Contessa  Adriana 
Marcello  and  the  Principessa  Maria  Chigi-Giovanelli,  the 
industry  was  revived.  It  happened  in  this  way.  The  winter 
of  1872  was  cold  and  stormy,  the  lagoons  were  icebound,  and 
the  unfortunate  inhabitants  of  Burano,  who  for  the  most  part 
are  fishermen,  were  on  the  verge  of  starvation.  The  Pope  and 
the  King  of  Italy — it  was  their  first  effort  in  common — set 
the  example  of  subscribing  to  the  fund  then  raised  for  the 
islanders.  By  means  of  concerts  and  benefit  performances  at 
the  theatres  throughout  Italy  a  large  sum  of  money  was  raised 
— more,  in  fact,  than  was  actually  necessary  to  supply  present 
needs.  With  the  surplus  Signor  Paolo  Fambri,  who  had 
organized  the  national  subscription,  conceived  the  idea  of 
reviving  the  ancient  industry  for  which  Burano  had  been  so 
famous.  His  plan  was  enthusiastically  taken  up  by  the  Con- 
tessa Adriana  Marcello  and  the  Principessa  Maria  Chigi-Gio- 
vanelli, who  founded  the  first  school  of  lace-making  at  Burano, 
to  which  later  Queen  Margherita,  then  Princess  of  Piedmont, 
gave  her  patronage.  The  Contessa  Adriana  Marcello  especially 
devoted  herself  to  the  revival  in  Burano,  for  her  husband, 
the  Conte  Alessandro  Marcello,  had  already  in  the  sixties 
attempted  this  very  thing.  The  chief  difficulty  then,  one  of 
money,  was  removed,  but  there  remained  another,  the  ques- 
tion of  the  tradition.     Did  it  exist  any  longer?     Did  any 


204  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

living  person,  in  fact,  know  how  to  make  Burano  point  lace  ? 
After  considerable  search  an  old  septuagenarian  woman, 
Cencia  Scarpariola,  was  found  who  still  possessed  the  secret 
and  the  tradition  of  the  old  punto  di  Burano.  Cencia,  how- 
ever, though  she  knew  how  to  make  the  lace,  was  quite 
incapable  of  teaching  her  craft.  The  Signora  Anna  Bellorio 
d'  Este,  mistress  of  the  Burano  school,  gave  herself  up  to  the 
task  of  watching  Cencia  at  work,  and  when  she  had  thus 
learned  the  art  she  began  to  teach  eight  pupils.  The  school 
thus  founded  has  never  looked  back.  Whereas  in  1880  it  was 
able  to  earn  some  34,327  lire,  in  1906  it  earned  154,802,  and 
since  1904  it  has  established  a  dependent  school  at  Chioggia, 
the  two  schools  together  employing  some  eight  hundred 
makers.  These  girls  are  divided  into  seven  classes,  one  of 
which  is  entirely  composed  of  married  women.  A  director, 
a  mistress,  and  certain  under-mistresses  are  responsible  for 
the  school,  for  the  maintenance  of  discipline,  and  for  the 
teaching  of  the  craft,  while  three  nuns  occupy  themselves  with 
the  education  of  the  girls. 

All  this  and  much  more  the  visitor  will  learn  at  the  school, 
where  he  may  also  pass  through  the  workrooms  and  see  the 
girls  at  work.  It  was  my  good  fortune  to  be  led  through  this 
most  excellent  institution  by  a  nun  who  had,  I  think,  the  most 
beautiful  face  I  have  ever  seen.  And  yet  it  was  not  really  its 
beauty  that  struck  me  most,  but  its  serenity  and  a  sort  of  light 
behind  it  which  transfigured  it  and  gave  me  a  memory  of  the 
stars.  Such  people  are  the  salt  of  the  earth,  but  they  are  so 
rare  that  the  world  nowadays  is  in  danger  of  losing  its  savour. 
When  I  looked  at  her  and  thought  of  her  useful  life,  her 
humble  endeavour,  and  pure,  clean  soul,  and  remembered 
the  mob  of  women  I  had  seen  not  long  before  at  Westminster 
I  began  to  be  afraid.  We  need  that  face  in  England ;  it  is 
too  rare  there.  We  have  our  type  beyond  compare,  it  bears 
a  child  in  its  arms;  but  the  pure  and  splendid  woman 
that  is  denied  motherhood  we  almost  lack.  When  I  saw  her 
thus  armed  at  all  points,  humble  and  serene,  but  very  eager, 
I  thought  of  Florence  Nightingale ;  but  she,  I  suppose,  is  out- 


TORCELLO  205 

moded  to-day ;  our  young  women  would  rather  break  a  head 
than  mend  one. 

It  is  but  ten  minutes  in  a  gondola,  even  in  what  passes  here  for 
one  it  is  little  more,  from  Burano  to  the  island  of  Torcello, 
and  yet  what  a  whole  world  of  difference  between  the  two  islands ! 
Burano  to-day  is  a  place  of  some  happiness,  it  is  full  of  people, 
the  children  fill  the  streets,  the  women  sing  as  they  work  at 
their  lace  in  the  deep  old  doorways.  Even  in  the  quietest 
piazzas  there  is  always  a  hum  of  women's  voices  as  they  sit 
at  their  delicate  and  beautiful  work.  And  the  people  are  gay 
too,  and  yet  quiet,  as  though  something  had  indeed  passed 
into  their  lives  from  those  white,  intricate  threads  they  turn 
so  deftly  and  so  softly  into  roses. 

In  Torcello  I  sometimes  think  there  is  only  silence,  a 
silence  only  made  more  audible  by  the  wind  among  the 
ruins  or  the  cicale  among  the  vines,  and  yet  there  I  have 
spent  happier  days  than  anywhere  else  in  all  the  Veneto.  It 
is  there,  as  nowhere  else  in  this  wide  country  of  fen  and  plain, 
that  I  have  realized  that  I  am  really  in  Italy.  How  hard  that 
often  is  in  Venice  ! — which,  I  swear,  any  stranger  dropped  there 
suddenly  from  an  airship  might  well  take  for  German  if  he 
were  to  judge  by  the  language  he  would  hear.  But  in  Tor- 
cello there  is  only  silence,  only  silence  and  freedom,  and  a 
whole  garden  of  vines,  and  a  couple  of  old  churches,  and 
a  crazy  tall  tower.  Yet  in  that  garden  I  have  passed  many 
a  day  of  happiness,  in  that  old  church  I  have  heard  Mass  with 
the  children,  on  the  tall  and  crazy  tower  I  have  waited  for 
dawn,  I  have  wished  for  evening. 

Is  it  not  in  such  doings,  in  such  remembrances  as  these,  that 
all  true  happiness  abides  ?  Here  in  Torcello,  at  any  rate,  it  is 
secure,  abandoned  on  this  ruined  island,  while  in  Venice  you 
will  too  often  search  for  it  in  vain. 

It  is  true  that  there  is  next  to  nothing  to  see  in  Torcello — 
an  old  and  broken  church,  a  ruin  and  a  crazy  tower;  but 
then  what  more  can  you  need  ?  And  if  you  need  more  are 
there  not  the  waterways  that  sing  and  sob  night  and  day, 
calling  you,  calling  you  to  come  and  discover  a  ruined  king- 


2o6  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

dom,  a  desert  island,  and  a  whole  world  of  forgotten  things 
that  the  marsh  guards  and  keeps  from  the  destroying  hands 
of  men? 

Yet  though  Torcello  is  so  silent,  and  though  it  has,  in  fact, 
nothing  to  show  you,  if  you  stay  long  enough  in  the  evening 
shadow  when  the  tourists  are  all  gone  back  to  Venice  on  their 
steamer,  when  the  children  have  finished  their  evening  play, 
when  the  mothers  are  all  busy  with  gossip  and  the  goodmen 
are  half  asleep  in  their  doorways,  Torcello  will  tell  you  her 
story,  and  you  will  understand  why  the  water  is  always  calling 
you  to  come  away,  why  there  is  so  much  silence,  why  the 
tower  is  so  crazy,  and  one  church  broken  and  the  other  a 
ruin. 

For  Torcello  was  built  in  haste,  in  the  midst  of  flight, 
founded  upon  fear.  When  the  tall  towers  of  Altinum  were 
burned  by  Attila,  when  the  city  went  up  in  flame,  and  no 
man  thought  of  standing  any  more,  but  all  men  were  in  full 
flight  for  the  marsh  and  the  sea,  they  came  to  this  island  and 
hastily  built  what  they  could,  and  in  memory  of  their  towered 
home  called  the  place  Torcello,  and  from  Torcello  is  Venice 
sprung.  You  may  see  it  all  from  that  crazy  tower,  where  the 
door  swings  on  its  hinges  in  the  evening  wind,  and  no  man 
passes  by — Altinum,  Torcello,  Venice,  they  all  lie  at  your  feet. 
Those  who  came  so  long  ago  and  built  the  place  had  known 
what  it  was  to  be  utterly  dispossessed,  to  be  beaten,  to  be 
beggared,  to  be  dishonoured,  and  by  barbarians.  At  last  they 
had  wondered  where  they  should  look  for  a  hiding-place. 
And  when  by  a  sort  of  miracle  they  came  to  Torcello  they 
rested  and  built  in  haste — always  in  haste — badly  and  with 
what  material  they  could  bring  from  their  ruins,  a  church 
and  a  tower  that  should  serve  them  and  remind  them  a  little 
of  their  home.  Such,  doubtless,  is  the  origin  of  S.  Fosca 
and  the  Cathedral  of  S.  Maria  founded  in  the  seventh  cen- 
tury, such,  doubtless,  was  the  beginning  of  that  crazy  tower. 
Then,  later,  a  remnant,  a  little  reassured,  repaired,  but  still 
hastily,  the  Church  of  St.  Mary,  and  repaired  for  it  the  Church 
of  S.  Fosca  as  Baptistery,  which  still  lies  in  ruins  beside  it. 


»     » 

•     »  »\  »    >     ) 

■>  >      »     >    »       J  o- 


1  '  »-v:%n  ',' 


•    » :  •  ;  ,'  * »;  ;  •- 


TORCELLO 


S.   FRANCESCO  207 

But  why  then  did  these  poor  folk,  in  such  haste  too,  build 
two  churches  ?  The  legend  answers  us  that  when  they  were 
all  come  to  Torcello,  Our  Lady  and  S.  Fosca  themselves 
revealed  to  the  monk  Mauro  not  only  that  these  churches 
should  be  built,  but  where  they  should  stand. 

S.  Fosca  is  small,  almost  unique,  and  very  lovely  even  in 
ruin.  As  for  the  Cathedral  of  S.  Mary,  it  is  a  basilica  in  the 
early  style,  supported  by  columns,  and  contains  still  a  few 
remnants  of  an  old  glory.  For  on  the  western  wall  are  six 
rows  of  twelfth  century  mosaics,  and  over  the  episcopal 
throne  in  the  apse  a  beautiful  Byzantine  mosaic  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  while  in  the  apse  at  the  end  of  the  right 
aisle  are  others  of  Christ  and  His  Apostles  and  the  Annun- 
ciation. All  these  things  have  been  restored,  but  I  think  the 
reliefs  on  the  ambones  are  untouched. 

Such  things  as  these  are  the  ghosts  of  Torcello,  they  haunt 
us  everywhere,  and  it  is  the  same  in  the  two  tiny  and  pathetic 
museums.  We  have  not  come  for  these.  We  have  come  for 
Torcello  herself,  for  the  garden  of  vines  and  the  wind  in  the 
rushes,  the  silence  and  the  voices  of  the  waterways.  These 
alone  would  make  Torcello  worth  any  pilgrimage ;  yet  I  have 
loved  too  the  old  churches  and  the  crazy  tower  which  were 
friends  of  mine  and  are  full  of  peace. 

I  should  certainly  have  found  Torcello  the  most  satisfying 
place  in  all  the  lagoon  if  I  had  not  almost  by  chance  found 
out  S.  Francesco  del  Deserto.  I  came  upon  it  one  morning 
when  I  had  been  to  Burano  to  buy  some  necessary  or  other, 
and  coming  back  in  the  very  ancient  flat-bottomed  dinghy  that 
I  used  to  explore  the  islands  I  spied  out  this  low,  long  bank 
with  its  little  white  convent  and  dark  cypresses — indeed,  it 
was  the  cypresses  that  took  my  fancy.  I  found  that  I  had 
come  upon  a  sanctuary  of  S.  Francis.  Here  it  seems  on  this 
once  quite  desolate  island  he  spent  a  time  of  recollection 
when  he  came  to  Venice.  It  is  said  by  the  friars,  of  whom 
about  thirty  remain,  that  he  here  repeated  too  the  dear 
episode  of  Bevagna  and  preached  to  the  Venetian  birds  as 
he  did  to  those  of  Umbria.     However  this  may  be,  S.  Fran- 


208  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

cesco  del  Deserto  has  a  miracle  of  its  own,  for  you  are  shown 
a  tree  there  which  is  nothing  else  but  the  staff  of  the  Saint  which 
he  thrust  into  the  ground,  when  it  took  root  and  grew  as  you 
may  see.  In  the  convent  the  cell  of  S.  Francis  is  shown,  and 
you  may  spend  many  a  pleasant  afternoon  in  the  two  cloisters, 
one  of  which  has  a  fine  arcade  and  a  well. 

However,  it  is  almost  impossible  for  one  to  sleep  on  the 
island,  and  so  one's  visits  there  come  to  be  always  a  matter 
of  going  and  returning.  One  can,  however,  imagine  no  more 
delicious  spot  in  which,  should  you  be  a  friar  and  love 
solitude,  to  spend  the  last  superb  autumn  of  your  life. 

"  O  solitudo  Beato, 
O  Beato  solitudo." 


XV 
TO   CHIOGGIA 

IF  the  journey  to  Burano  and  Torcello  gives  one  the  best 
chance  of  seeing  the  lagoon  and  the  great  marshy  islands 
that  together  form  so  characteristic  a  part  of  the  Veneto  and 
so  sure  a  defence  of  Venice  against  any  enemy  from  the  main- 
land, the  journey  to  Chioggia  allows  one  to  examine  the  great 
lidi  and  sandbanks  that  protect  the  city  and  the  lagoon  from 
the  sea  and  to  observe  two  of  the  three  ports  which  give  access 
through  these  sandbanks  to  Venice  herself.  The  first  of  the 
three  ports,  the  Porto  di  Lido,  we  have  already  visited;  on 
the  way  to  Chioggia  we  shall  pass  the  remaining  two,  namely, 
Porto  di  Malamocco  and  Porto  di  Chioggia.  We  shall  also 
on  this  journey  have  the  opportunity  of  examining  the  murazzi, 
or  artificial  fortifications,  which  the  Venetians  have  built  from 
time  to  time  against  the  rage  of  the  Adriatic,  and  we  shall  be 
able  to  examine  more  than  one  little  fishing  village  along  that 
lean  shore,  which  in  the  winter,  as  seen  from  Venice,  appears 
lost  in  a  mist  of  foam  and  the  thunder  of  the  great  waters. 

But  if  we  are  to  achieve  all  this,  we  shall  need  more  time 
than  the  daily  steamer  service  properly  allows.  And,  in  fact, 
no  one  who  can  spare  the  necessary  time  should  go  by  steamer 
at  all.  Let  such  an  one  give  two  days  to  this  excursion.  Let 
him  take  a  gondola  and  two  men.  Let  him  start  early  in  the 
morning  and  rejoice  in  the  sunrise :  he  will  be  repaid  fourfold. 
On  the  first  day  he  will  visit  Pelestrina  and  Chioggia,  on  the 
second,  returning,  Alberoni  and  Malamocco.     This  I  suppose 

p  *°9 


210  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

to  be  a  counsel  of  perfection,  there  will  doubtless  be  but  few 
who  will  free  themselves  from  the  steamboat. 

But  however  one  goes,  whether  by  steamer  or  by  gondola, 
whether  in  two  days  or  in  one,  the  way  is  much  the  same. 
You  start  out  past  S.  Servolo  and  enter  there  the  great  road 
for  Malamocco,  a  broad  avenue  of  pali  marking  the  deep 
water.  The  first  island  you  pass  on  the  right  will  be  La 
Grazia,  the  second  S.  Clemente,  after  which  to  the  left  comes 
the  island  of  S.  Spirito,  and  then  again  on  the  right  the  island 
of  Poveglia,  not  far  from  the  little  town  of  Malamocco  on  the 
Lido. 

The  little  island  of  La  Grazia  was,  like  so  many  of  the  islands 
of  the  lagoon,  inhabited  from  very  early  times  by  religious. 
The  ruins  that  bear  witness  to  their  sojourn  here  are,  however, 
very  few  and  scanty :  there  only  remains  an  ancient  hospice  of 
pilgrims,  a  cloister  of  hermits  whose  successors  were  the  monks 
of  the  Congregation  of  S.  Girolamo  da  Fiesole.  But  about 
1439  some  fugitives  brought  hither  from  besieged  Constanti- 
nople an  image  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  that  was  said  to  be  the 
work  of  S.  Paul,  and  the  island,  which  had  till  then  been 
known  as  S.  Maria  della  Cavana,  was  renamed  by  the  people 
S.  Maria  della  Grazia.  The  Gerolamini  were,  however,  sup- 
pressed in  1668  and  the  Republic  entered  into  their  inheritance. 
Not  for  long,  however,  for  within  a  year  a  certain  Bianca 
Spinelli,  who  was  betrothed  to  Lodovico  Contenti,  on  the 
eve  of  her  marriage  persuaded  her  lover  to  release  her  from 
her  vows  in  order  that  she  might  offer  herself  to  God  as  a  nun 
under  the  Rule  of  St.  Francis.  This  she  did  with  certain  of 
her  friends,  and  they  were  allowed  to  take  up  their  abode  in 
the  cloister  of  the  Grazia.  In  18 10,  however,  the  cloister  and 
the  church  of  the  Grazia  were  ruined,  and  a  little  later  there 
was  built  in  their  place  a  polveriera^  a  powder  magazine,  which 
was  blown  up  in  the  siege  of  1849.  Thus  was  the  house  of 
S.  Francis  turned  into  a  storage  for  war.  But  S.  Francis  has 
come  to  his  own  after  all,  for  to-day  the  island  of  La  Grazia  is 
a  hospital  for  consumptives.1 

1  See  Molmenti  e  Mantovani,  "  Le  Isole  della  Laguna  Veneta  "  (Bergamo, 
1910). 


TO  CHIOGGIA  211 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  island  of  S.  Clemente. 
The  next  island  is  passed  on  the  left ;  it  is  that  of  S.  Spirito. 
It  too  was  the  home  of  monks  :  at  first  of  Augustinians,  then 
in  1409  for  a  few  years  of  the  Cistercians,  but  in  1429  it  came 
back  to  the  Augustinians  and  produced  that  Andrea  Bon- 
dumiero  who  was  first  Patriarch  of  Venice.  He  did  not 
forget  his  old  home.  He  began  to  build,  and  presently 
Jacopo  Sansovino  erected  there  a  very  noble  church ;  Palma 
Vecchio  and  Titian  painted  pictures  for  it.  But  in  1656  the 
monks  were  suppressed  and  their  treasures  taken  to  Venice 
and  placed  in  the  church  of  S.  Maria  della  Salute.1  The 
island  remained  ruined  and  desolate  till  1672,  when  the  Senate 
gave  it  to  those  Friars  Minor  who  had  fled  to  Venice  from 
Crete  and  the  cruelty  of  the  Turk.  All  went  well  then  with 
Santo  Spirito  till  the  universal  robber,  Napoleon,  appeared  and 
in  1806  expelled  the  friars  and  filled  their  old  convent  with 
marines.  Since  then  it  has,  like  La  Grazia,  become  a  powder 
magazine. 

To  the  left  of  S.  Spirito,  under  the  Lido,  stands  the  little 
island  of  Lazzaretto  Vecchio.  This  island  was  of  old  the  site 
of  a  church  dedicated  to  S.  Maria  di  Nazaret  and  of  a  hospice 
for  pilgrims  to  the  Holy  Land.  Later  it  was  converted  by  the 
Republic  into  a  hospital  for  the  plague-stricken :  this  in 
the  thirteenth  century,  and  was  probably  the  first  public 
hospital  of  the  sort  established  in  Europe,  and  probably 
gave  the  name  of  Nazaretto,  which  became  Lazzaretto,  to 
all  similar  institutions.  On  the  fall  of  the  Republic  the 
Lazzaretto  was  transferred  to  the  island  of  Poveglia,  to 
which  we  come  just  before  the  town  of  Malamocco  on  the 
Lido  comes  in  sight. 

Poveglia  stands  forth  as  very  valorous  in  the  defeat  of  the 
Frankish  attempt  on  Venice  under  Pepin  in  809.  Pepin,  the 
son  of  Charlemagne,  who  had  jealously  watched  the  rise  of 
the  lagoon  communities  from  the  mainland,  at  last  resolved  to 
attack  them  and  to  make  good  his  claim  of  allegiance  as  king 
of  Italy.  He  got  a  fleet  together  at  Ravenna,  and  sailing  up 
1  See  sutra,  p.  146. 


212  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

the  coast  took  Chioggia  and  Pelestrina  and  approached  Mala- 
mocco,  then  the  capital,  to  overthrow  it  also.  But  before  he 
could  do  so  the  Doge  and  the  Venetian  people  transferred 
themselves  and  their  government  to  the  Rialto,  so  that  when 
Pepin  took  Malamocco  he  found  it  deserted,  save  for  an  old 
woman  who  had  refused  on  any  consideration  to  leave  her 
cottage,  and  was  resolved  to  save  Venice.  This  she  is  said 
to  have  done  by  counselling  Pepin  to  build  a  wooden 
bridge  all  the  way  from  Malamocco  to  Rialto.  This  Pepin 
achieved,  but  when  he  took  his  army  across  it  the  horses, 
fearful  of  the  water,  cast  them  all  into  the  sea.  The  more 
trustworthy  account  of  the  affair,  however,  shows  us  the  heavy 
Frankish  boats  aground  in  the  shallow  lagoon  and  the  people 
of  Poveglia  cutting  throats  at  their  ease.  Nothing,  how- 
ever, remains  that  is  ancient  on  the  island  of  Poveglia,  for 
during  the  war  of  Chioggia,  when  Genoa  so  nearly  caught 
Venice  napping,  everything  was  destroyed  by  order  of  the 
Republic  and  the  inhabitants  were  transported  to  the  contrada 
di  S.  Agnese  in  Venice.1  All  that  we  see  to-day  on  this  green 
island  is  rows  of  Lazar  huts. 

We  now  slowly  approach  the  town  of  Malamocco.  The 
vast  sandbank  of  which  it  is  the  capital,  and  which  I  call  the 
Lido,  is  now  one  long,  lean  island  washed  on  the  east  by  the 
Adriatic  and  on  the  west  by  the  green,  sluggish,  shallow  waters 
of  the  lagoon.  It  stretches  from  the  Porto  di  Lido  without  a 
break  to  the  Porto  di  Malamocco,  some  miles  south  of  the 
town  of  that  name.  I  call  this  sandbank  the  Lido,  for  that  is 
what  it  is ;  but  officially  it  is  only  the  northern  part  of  it,  from 
the  Porto  di  Lido  to  the  Forte  Quattro  Fontane,  which  bears 
that  name,  the  southern  part  from  the  Fort  to  the  Porto  di 
Malamocco  being  called  Littorale  di  Malamocco.  This  part 
is,  in  fact,  only  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide  till  it  swells 
into  the  headland  of  Alberoni.  This  island  from  Porto  di 
Lido  to  Porto  di  Malamocco  is  the  first  of  the  three  vast  sand- 
banks which  guard  the  lagoon ;  it  is  also  naturally  the  strongest 
and  firmest.  To  the  south  of  it  lies  another  long,  narrow 
1  Molomenti  e  Mantovani,  v.s.,  p.  40. 


TO  CHIOGGIA  213 

sandbank  called  Littorale  di  Pelestrina,  but  this  like  the  third, 
Littorale  di  Sotto  Marina,  is  guarded  from  the  inroads  of  the 
sea  artificially  by  vast  murazzi,  great  terraces  of  boulders  erected 
in  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  at  a  cost  of  near  a  million 
sterling. 

But  to  return  to  Malamocco.  The  name  is  very  familiar  to 
us  in  early  Venetian  history,1  but  the  town  we  see,  has  very 
little  to  do  with  the  island  which  then  bore  its  name.  That 
island  has  been  swallowed  by  the  sea.  It  met  with  this  fate 
in  the  midst  of  an  earthquake  in  the  first  years  of  the  twelfth 
century,  and  then  its  bishopric  perished  together  with  its 
famous  monasteries  and  churches  of  S.  Rocco,  S.  Leo,  SS. 
Leonardo  ed  Erasmo,  and  S.  Cipriano.  The  new  Malamocco, 
the  town  we  see  to-day,  and  of  which  we  have  mention  in  1 107, 
was  self-governed  by  its  own  Doge,  and  after  1 139  by  a  Podesta. 
To-day  it  makes  a  part  of  the  Commune  of  Venice  and  has 
about  3,000  inhabitants,  three  churches — S.  Antonio,  S.  Vito» 
and  the  parish  church  of  Ognissanti.  The  Palazzo  del  Podesta 
still  remains  on  the  Piazza,  a  building  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
and  all  that  even  Molmenti  can  find  to  say  of  a  place  which  has 
inherited  a  name  so  glorious  is  that  it  is  famous  for  its  vegetables 
and  especially  for  its  melons  ! 

It  is  after  leaving  Malamocco  that  one  generally  comes  upon 
a  fleet  of  those  fishing  boats  which,  with  their  golden  sails, 
blazoned  with  the  Lion  and  the  Book,  are  the  pride  and  joy 
of  the  lagoons,  and  the  only  proper  means  for  their  explora- 
tion. Many  a  happy  day,  many  a  quiet  star-enraptured  night 
have  I  spent  aboard  them  in  the  company  I  love  best  in  all 
Venetia. 

After  leaving  Malamocco  one  soon  finds  oneself  off  Forte 
Alberone,  and  it  is  here  in  the  road  of  Porto  di  Malamocco 
that  the  great  battleships  and  cruisers  of  Italy  lie  when  they 
are  in  these  waters  for  manoeuvres.  Beyond  the  Porto  lies 
the  Littorale  di  Pelestrina,  the  second  of  those  long  but 
lean  islands  that  keep  out  the  sea.  The  capital  is  Pele- 
strina, and  there  and  in  the  two  hamlets  of  Portosecco  and 
1  See  supra,  p.  12. 


2i4  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

S.  Pietro  live  some  7,000  people.  Pelestrina  is  a  poor  place 
with  almost  nothing  to  recommend  it,  save  its  facilities  for 
bathing,  which  are  here  to  be  had  at  far  less  cost  than  at  the 
Lido.  The  old  monastery  of  S.  Antonio  has  been  turned  into 
a  sort  of  bathing  establishment,  and  here  in  summer  the  poorer 
sort  of  tourist  comes  to  enjoy  himself. 

Pelestrina  has  decayed  with  the  decay  of  the  Republic, 
to  whom  of  old  she  furnished  many  sailors.  Her  sons  now 
are  wholly  given  up  to  fishing — a  hard  life — or  to  agriculture, 
a  harder  almost  in  a  spot  so  barren  as  this.  The  women  are 
engaged  in  lace-making  as  they  sit  in  their  doorways  talking 
and  keeping  a  mother's  eye  upon  the-  games  of  the  children, 
as  splendid  and  joyful  a  little  people  as  is  to  be  found  anywhere 
in  Italy.  And  altogether  they  with  their  dear,  tousled  heads, 
bright  eyes,  and  flashing  teeth,  their  exaggerated  small  ges- 
tures, and  their  vivid  torn  clothes,  make  a  picture  more  joyful 
than  one  might  suppose. 

The  only  work  of  art  worth  seeing  on  the  Littorale  di 
Pelestrina  is  not  the  Church  of  Ognissanti,  though  that  is  gay 
enough  any  Sunday  morning,  but  that  part  of  the  sea  coast 
which  stretches  away  for  four  chilometri  behind  the  church 
and  which  was  strengthened  and  rebuilt  in  16 18  for  the  pro- 
tection of  Venice,  the  last  great  work  of  the  Republic,  called 
I  Murazzi.  This  vast  work,  renewed  from  time  to  time, 
boulder  laid  upon  boulder,  to  defend  the  unstable  sand  that 
the  city  might  not  be  overwhelmed  by  her  husband  the 
Adriatic,  bears  the  following  inscription : — 

UT   SACRA   AESTUARIA 

URBIS   ET   LIBERALIS    SEDES 

PERPETUUM   CONSERVENTUR 

COLOSSEAS    MOLES 

EX   SOLIDO   MARMORE 

CONTRA   MARE   POSUERE 

CURATORES    AQUARUM 

AN.    SAL.    MDCCLI 

AB   URBE   COND.    MCCLXXX. 


TO   CHIOGGIA  215 

And  so  setting  out  from  Pelestrina  and  sailing  across  the 
deep  mouth  of  the  Porto  we  come  to  Chioggia. 

Chioggia  is  an  island,  a  small  island  entirely  covered  by  the 
town  on  the  verge  of  the  mainland  where  the  now  canalized 
Brenta  pours  into  the  sea.  It  may  be  said  to  be  the  capital  of 
the  fishing  towns  of  the  lagoon,  for  it  is  certainly  the  largest, 
and  the  whole  of  its  energy  might  seem  to  be  given  entirely 
to  the  business  of  the  sea.  Its  picturesque  fishing  boats  crowd 
the  molo  and  the  little  harbour  and,  packed  like  herrings  in  a 
barrel,  stretch  quite  through  the  little  town  from  end  to  end  of 
it,  for  it  is  traversed,  as  Venice  is,  by  a  grand  canal,  only  here  it 
is  full  of  boats,  so  that  one  may  cross  it  almost  anywhere  dry- 
shod.  The  structure  of  Chioggia  is  indeed  simplicity  itself. 
Here  is  an  island  traversed  from  end  to  end  by  a  great,  wide 
and  half-deserted  street,  called  since  1866  Corso  Vittorio 
Emanuele.  Parallel  to  it  runs  the  grand  canal  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  called  II  Canale  Vena,  and  this  is  covered  by  nine 
bridges  of  stone.  From  these  nine  bridges  either  way  run  the 
smaller  streets  across  the  island  to  the  lagoon  on  the  east,  called 
Canale  di  S.  Domenico,  to  that  on  the  west,  called  Canale  Lom- 
bardo.  So  regular  a  plan  seems  astonishing  in  so  old  and  so 
dilapidated  a  place  as  Chioggia,  and,  in  fact,  it  robs  it  of  a  cer- 
tain picturesqueness  which  one  certainly  expects  to  find.  But 
what  Chioggia  lacks  in  the  way  of  winding  streets  and  shadowy 
palaces  is  wholly  made  up  to  her  by  the  fishing  boats,  which 
with  their  many-coloured  sails,  their  tall  masts,  and  singing 
ropes  seem  to  bring  the  sea  itself  into  the  place  and  to  make 
of  it  nothing  more  than  a  large  ship  floating  on  the  basin  of 
the  port  and  about  to  set  out  for  Alexandria  on  some  quest  of 
the  Middle  Age.  Indeed,  the  fishermen,  the  fishing  boats,  the 
fish  market  along  the  Vena  are  by  far  the  most  interesting 
people  and  things  in  Chioggia. 

Of  old  Chioggia  depended  very  largely  on  her  salt  industry 
for  a  living.  She  depends  still  upon  the  sea,  but  her  salt 
business  has  gone,  while  her  fish  markets  remain.  And  since 
the  revival  of  lace-making  at  Burano  the  Chioggiotte  have 
been  largely  employed  in  this  craft  also.     These  women  are 


216  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

often  of  very  considerable  beauty,  and  seem  rather  than  their 
sisters  at  Venice  to  have  preserved  the  Venetian  type  and  the 
Venetian  character.  And  it  is  much  the  same  with  the  men, 
who  appear  taller  and  stronger  than  the  modern  Venetians. 
Perhaps  this  was  always  so.  Certain  it  is  that  we  hear  that 
the  great  masters  of  the  Venetian  school  of  painting  used  often 
to  come  to  Chioggia  to  choose  their  models,  as  the  Italian  and 
foreign  painters  do  to-day. 

But  there  are  other  sights  to  be  had  in  Chioggia  beside  the 
people  and  the  fishing  boats  and  the  town  at  large.  In  the 
Church  of  S.  Domenico,  across  the  Vigo  Bridge,  there  is  a 
fine  picture  by  Carpaccio  of  S.  Paul,  his  drawn  sword  in  his 
right  hand,  the  book  of  his  Epistles  open  in  his  left,  the  last 
work,  as  is  supposed,  of  the  great  painter.  The  picture  is 
signed  Victor  Carpathius  Venetus  pinxit  MDXX.  In  the  same 
church,  over  the  High  Altar,  is  a  poor  work  by  Tintoretto  of 
Christ  with  S.  Thomas  Aquinas  and  other  saints. 

In  the  Church  of  S.  Andrea,  in  the  Corso,  is  a  fine  work  by 
Palma  Vecchio  of  Christ  Crucified,  while  about  the  Cross 
stand  the  Blessed  Virgin,  S.  John,  S.  Luke,  and  S.  Daniele. 

The  Duomo  of  S.  Maria  was  rebuilt  in  1633  by  Longhena. 
It,  however,  contains  nothing  of  much  interest,  unless  it  be 
three  reliquaries  of  the  fourteenth  century. 

But  what  delighted  me  most  among  the  treasures  of 
Chioggia  was  an  ancient  altarpiece  conserved  in  the  Church 
of  S.  Martino,  a  fine  old  brick  building  with  an  octagonal 
lantern  and  mighty  campanile  standing  before  a  dilapidated 
piazza  in  the  Corso.  This  ancona  stands  over  the  High 
Altar,  and  consists  of  ten  panels  with  three  predella  panels.  In 
the  midst  is  set  Our  Lady,  enthroned  with  her  little  Son,  and 
on  either  side  two  saints,  above  S.  Martin  divides  his  cloak 
with  a  beggar,  and  on  either  side  are  set  four  scenes  from  his 
life,  while  higher  still  we  see  the  Crucifixion  with  Our  Lady 
and  S.  John  beside  the  cross,  and,  above  all,  a  half  figure 
of  a  saint  with  a  book  in  his  hand.  In  the  side  panels 
here  are  two  angels  with  censers  and  four  more  scenes 
from  the   life  of  S.    Martin.     In  the  predella  are  five  half 


TO  CHIOGGIA  217 

figures  of  saints.  This  fine  work  by  some  unknown  painter 
is  dated  1349. 

S.  Martino  must  have  been  built  about  the  time  of  or  not 
long  after  the  war  of  Chioggia,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
brought  to  an  end  by  the  victory  of  Venice  over  the  Genoese 
fleet  in  1392.  Unhappily,  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  we  see,  replaced 
a  building  dating  a  hundred  and  sixty  years  before  that  war. 
But  the  huge  granary  of  Chioggia,  built  in  1322,  still  remains 
in  the  midst  of  the  Piazza,  though  it  has  suffered  restoration, 
and  is  now  the  main  fish  market. 

To  the  tourist  I  feel  sure  Chioggia  will  seem  a  very  poor 
place.  He  will  probably  grudge  the  day  he  has  spent  in  going 
to  see  her;  but  to  an  artist,  or  even  to  a  more  leisurely 
traveller,  though  no  one  will  compare  her  with  Torcello,  the 
best  of  all,  she  will  seem,  nevertheless,  something  to  be  thank- 
ful for.  Happy  is  he  who  finds  himself  content  with  her  and 
in  a  mood  to  remain.  For  him  there  remain  many  pleasant 
and  consoling  sights  :  in  spring  the  procession  of  the  Crocefisso 
that  passes  over  the  Ponte  di  Vigo.  In  summer  the  Benedic- 
tion before  the  Church  of  S.  Andrea,  when  all  the  Chioggiotti 
and  Chioggiotte  are  dressed  in  their  best,  in  dresses  peculiar 
to  Chioggia,  and  the  old  days  and  the  old  ways  seem  still  to 
be  with  us;  and,  indeed,  when  the  wind  of  evening  pours 
over  the  lagoon,  blue  as  a  cold  sapphire  in  the  twilight,  when 
the  girls  are  singing  on  the  molo  and  the  fishermen  answer 
from  their  boats  coming  in  from  the  sea,  and  the  sky  is 
trembling  with  the  few  summer  stars,  I,  for  one,  could  wish  to 
remain  in  Chioggia  always  amid  these  simple  and  human  folk 
who  have  been  my  friends. 


XVI 
TO    TREVISO 

THERE  is  a  weariness  of  the  sea.  Yes,  for  all  the 
fading  beauty  of  Venice,  the  pure  delight  of  the 
lagoons,  the  silence  and  loneliness  of  the  islands,  in  time  one 
grows  weary  of  them,  and  is  homesick  for  the  hills  ;  one 
remembers  the  long  roads  that  lead  on  for  ever  in  the  sunshine, 
one  regrets  the  vineyards  and  the  gardens  of  olives,  not  this 
waste  of  island-sprinkled  water  but  the  firm  earth  is  the  heart  of 
our  desire.  To  be  weary  with  the  length  of  the  way,  to  set  out 
where  the  road  leads,  these  are  the  inalienable  needs  of  a  man, 
and  how  can  Venice  ever  satisfy  them  ?  For  all  her  beauty  and 
for  all  her  delight,  she  comes  at  last  to  be  a  kind  of  prison 
from  which  there  is  no  visible  escape.  The  waters  lie  every- 
where about  her,  and  the  farthest  of  her  islands  is  but  a  cell  in 
a  fortress  not  made  with  hands,  where  she  lies  now  in  durance, 
and  of  which  she  has  lost  the  key.  For  in  a  very  real  sense 
she  is  caught  at  last  in  her  own  trap.  Once  she  was  sufficient 
for  herself,  and  in  the  midst  of  her  natural  bastion,  the 
lagoon,  she  was  able  for  many  centuries  to  defy  all  comers. 
But  now  life  has  departed  from  her,  she  is  derelict  in  the 
shallow  sea,  and  is  wrecked  on  the  shoals  that  were  once  her 
protection,  and  there  is  no  one  who  comes  to  her  and  remains 
with  her  but  at  last  becomes  aware  that  he  is  a  prisoner,  that 
he,  too,  like  any  wretched  captive,  must  go  round  and  round, 
that  there  is  no  free  way  out.  Then  it  is  that  he  knows  that 
he  must  ere  long  take  ship  or  deliver  himself  to  the  train  and 
escape,  for  it  is  escape,  and  leave  these  strange  and  shallow 
waters,  and  set  foot  upon  the  firm  and  stable  earth  whence  he 


TO   TREVISO  219 

is  sprung.  It  may  be  a  few  weeks,  it  may  be  a  long  series  of 
years,  that  bring  this  home  to  him,  for  men  are  strangely 
different,  and  in  Venice  only  this  is  sure,  that  he  who  is  not 
Venetian  born  will  know  that  he  is  a  prisoner  at  last.  Then 
when  the  narrow  ways  grow  irksome,  when  the  lagoon  seems 
only  a  desert,  something  reveals  itself  suddenly  in  the  heart, 
and  the  stranger  is  restless  to  be  gone.  Perhaps  it  is  in  the 
sweet  o'  the  year  that  this  comes  to  him  at  last,  and  a  memory 
of  spring  in  the  world  he  knew,  a  world  of  fields  and  hedge- 
rows, of  valleys  and  hills,  of  corn  and  wine  and  oil,  of  the 
sentient  and  awakening  world,  raises  rebellion  in  his  heart, 
and  the  barren  sea  seems  the  way  of  a  fool,  for  the  whole  wide 
world  is  calling  to  him,  and  there  is  nothing  that  can  prevent 
him  in  finding  her.  Certainly  it  was  the  spring  that  broke  for 
me  the  spell  of  Venice.  I  dreamed  of  the  highways,  I  desired 
the  hills,  when  the  sweet  of  the  year  broke  over  the  valleys 
red  and  white,  when  the  green  bud  began  to  appear,  when  the 
wind  came  softly  from  the  south,  and  the  birds  were  come 
from  over  the  sea.     So  I  set  out. 

One  night  on  the  Fondamenta  Nuova  I  found  a  barge  for 
the  mainland.  I  made  friends,  I  went  aboard,  and  by  dawn 
my  foot  pressed  terra  firma.  I  was  in  Mestre,  on  the  road  to 
Treviso. 

Of  that  road  who  can  say  enough?  It  leads  across  the 
plain  towards  the  mountains,  it  leads  through  many  a  pleasant 
village,  and  all  the  way  is  green  with  the  new  sprung  corn  and 
red  and  white  with  almond  blossom,  and  whispering  with  the 
south  wind  among  the  vines,  among  the  twisted  fig-trees  and 
unchanging  cypresses.  I  breakfasted  in  Mogliano,  a  brief 
handful  of  houses ;  I  lunched  in  Preganziol,  and,  going 
slowly,  for  I  was  weary  after  the  winter,  I  came  into  Treviso 
at  nightfall,  into  Treviso  with  its  memories  of  Venice. 

Treviso,  which  ever  wears  an  aspect  so  smiling  and  so 
youthful,  is  nevertheless  a  city  of  very  ancient  foundation, 
far  older  than  Venice,  which  is,  indeed,  the  latest  born  of  all 
those  towns  which  came  at  last  to  owe  her  life  and  allegiance. 
In  the  time  of  the  Empire  Treviso — Tarvisium  as  it  was  called 


220  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

— was  a  prosperous  and  important  place.  With  the  coming  of 
Attila,  however,  it,  like  all  the  cities  of  Venetia,  fell  into  ruin. 
That  barbarian  entered  Italy,  crossing  the  Alps  in  452,  and, 
as  we  have  seen,  at  once  laid  siege  to  Aquileia,  with  an 
innumerable  host.  Unskilled  as  he  was  in  the  methods  of 
conducting  a  regular  siege,  he  was  yet  able  with  the  enforced 
assistance  of  his  many  prisoners  and  the  impressed  provincials 
of  the  country  places  to  make  a  very  formidable  assault  upon 
the  strong  walls  of  that  great  city  with  battering-rams, 
movable  turrets,  and  engines  that  threw  darts  and  fire. 
Aquileia  was  at  that  time  not  only  one  of  the  richest  and 
most  populous  of  the  cities  of  this  coast,  but  it  was  also  the 
most  formidable  fortress  on  the  frontier.  It  made  the  most 
splendid  and  the  most  heroic  resistance  to  the  Hun,  who 
consumed  three  months  ineffectually  before  it,  and  was, 
indeed,  on  the  verge  of  starvation  and  about  to  raise  the 
siege,  when  a  mere  chance  gave  him  the  city.  "  As  he  rode 
round  the  walls,"  says  Gibbon,  "pensive,  angry,  and  dis- 
appointed, he  observed  a  stork  preparing  to  leave  her  nest  in 
one  of  the  towers,  and  to  fly  with  her  infant  family  towards  the 
country.  He  seized  with  the  ready  penetration  of  a  statesman 
this  trifling  incident  which  chance  had  offered  to  superstition, 
and  exclaimed  in  a  loud  and  cheerful  tone  that  such  a  domestic 
bird,  so  constantly  attached  to  human  society,  would  never 
have  abandoned  her  ancient  seats  unless  those  towers  had 
been  devoted  to  impending  ruin  and  solitude.  The  favour- 
able omen  inspired  an  assurance  of  victory;  the  siege  was 
renewed  and  prosecuted  with  fresh  vigour ;  a  large  breach  was 
made  in  the  part  of  the  wall  from  whence  the  stork  had  taken 
her  flight,  and  the  Huns  mounted  to  the  assault  with  irresis- 
tible fury ;  and  the  succeeding  generation  could  scarcely 
discover  the  ruins  of  Aquileia." 

With  the  fall  and  ruin  of  Aquileia  the  frontier  lay  open. 
Attila  apparently  crossed  the  Piave  out  of  Friuli x  into  Venetia 

1  I  hope  to  deal  with  Friuli  in  another  book.  I  intended  to  include  it 
in  this  volume,  but  the  whole  of  the  frontier  province  is  so  rich  in  interest 
that  it  deserves  a  volume  to  itself. 


TO  TREVISO  221 

proper,  and  the  first  city  in  his  way  was  Tarvisium.  This 
also  he  overthrew,  and  marched  on  to  Padua,  which  he  left  a 
heap  of  stones  before  he  swung  westward  to  destroy  the  inland 
towns,  Vicenza,  Verona,  and  Bergamo,  and  so  to  Milan  and 
Pavia,  which  submitted  without  resistance.  This  march  of 
utter  destruction  is,  I  imagine,  without  parallel  in  the  history 
of  Europe.  It  was  like  a  flight  of  locusts ;  before  it  was 
plenty  and  civilization,  behind  it  starvation,  anarchy,  and 
barren  ruin.  Everything  went  down,  not  only  the  cities, 
but  man  and  his  work  of  a  thousand  years.  Venetia  re- 
turned to  a  state  of  barbarism — Venetia  which  had  been  one 
of  the  richest  and  most  vigorous  provinces  of  the  Empire. 
As  Attila  himself  boasted,  the  grass  never  grew  on  the  spot 
where  his  horse  had  trod. 

What  exactly  was  the  fate  of  Tarvisium  during  the  ensuing 
centuries  we  do  not  know.  The  Dark  Ages  lay  over  Europe, 
and,  as  has  been  said,  though  Charlemagne  lifted  the  veil  for  a 
moment  and  assured  the  world  of  the  sun,  there  were  many 
years  to  pass  away  after  that  splendid  and  heroic  coronation 
in  S.  Peter's  Church,  before  Europe  could  again  be  said  to  be 
a  living  thing.  It  is,  however,  part  of  the  irony  of  history, 
and  also  but  another  proof  that  none  of  us  really  knows  what 
he  is  doing,  that  in  his  destructive  and  incredible  march 
Attila  may  be  said  to  have  founded  Venice,  the  city  and  the 
State  which  was  at  length  to  renew  the  life  of  the  old  Roman 
Province  of  Venetia,  and  to  rebuild,  perhaps  on  more  secure 
foundations,  the  civilization  of  Rome  and  of  Europe  in  this 
corner  of  the  Empire  which  had  suffered  more  severely  than 
any  other  in  that  never  to  be  forgotten  disaster. 

When  Treviso  next  appears  upon  the  stage  of  history  very 
nearly  a  thousand  years  had  passed  away  since  Attila  laid  her 
low.  Venice,  which  had  grown  out  of  the  ruin  of  Aquileia 
and  Altinum,  was  by  the  year  1339  about  to  become  mistress 
of  the  sea.  She  had  disposed  of  the  Dalmatian  pirates,  she 
had  broken  Constantinople,  she  was  to  strew  the  beaches  of 
Chioggia  with  the  wrecks  of  the  galleys  of  Genoa.  Her  trade 
was  paramount  in  the  East,  and  her  many  possessions  through 


222  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

the  Levant  glittered  in  the  cap  of  her  Doge  like  jewels.  She 
had  become  by  dint  of  her  enterprise,  her  virility,  and  her 
hard  fighting  the  emporium  of  Europe.  Yet  in  that  year 
1339  she  was  but  a  kind  of  fortress  in  the  sea,  she  held 
nothing  in  the  ancient  province  whose  name  she  bore.  This, 
which  had  for  long  been  her  salvation,  had  come  now  to  be 
her  gravest  danger.  The  old  weapon  that  had  always  been 
used  against  Venice  was  the  threat  of  starvation;  this,  she 
knew,  would  be  used  again,  and  with  the  consolidation  of  Italy 
of  the  various  provinces  of  Italy,  with  ever-increasing  success. 
She  could  not  grow  corn  in  the  lagoons,  she  must  import  it 
from  the  mainland.  And,  moreover,  that  mainland,  so  hazily 
visible  across  the  shallow  waters,  had  lately  become  of  vast 
importance  in  this  also,  that  the  various  powers  there,  small 
princelings  or  great  States,  were  always  able  to  shut  the 
passes  of  the  Alps  against  her  commerce,  so  that  she  under- 
stood what  it  was  to  face  both  starvation  and  commercial  ruin. 
With  the  sea  almost  in  her  hands,  but  with  Genoa  unbeaten, 
she  suddenly  turned  her  attention  to  this,  and,  like  every 
other  problem  that  was  presented  to  her  before  inward 
decadence  and  exterior  revolutions  in  the  conditions  of  Europe 
brought  her  to  nothing,  she  solved  it. 

Nor  was  the  solution,  which  she  adopted  so  successfully,  any 
new  idea*  It  was  but  a  revival  of  an  old  intention  that  had 
always  lain  in  her  soul,  but  that  till  now  she  had  not  been 
forced  to  carry  out  with  all  her  strength.  Already  in  996  she 
had  secured  a  port  and  a  market-place  on  the  Sile,  which  runs 
through  Treviso,  and  of  old  flowed  into  the  lagoon  at  or  near 
Altinum.  In  1142  she  had  for  the  first  time  undertaken  a 
war  on  terra  firma  to  keep  the  Brenta  open  for  her  merchant- 
men. In  1240  she  had  fought  on  the  mainland  to  maintain 
her  commercial  rights  in  Ferrara.  The  second  war  of  Ferrara 
in  1308  gives  us,  according  to  Mr.  Horatio  Brown,  "the 
earliest  indications  of  a  distinctly  aggressive  land  policy." 
Before  then,  certainly,  Genoa,  we  must  remember,  had  defeated 
Pisa,  and  was  thus  become  tremendously  formidable  ;  at  least 
as  formidable  as  Germany  is  to  us  to-day.     It  is  then,  in  1308 


TO   TKEVISO  223 

that  we  find  the  Doge,  Gradenigo,  advocating  a  policy  of 
territorial  expansion  j  but  I  think  it  must  always  have  been 
the  creed  of  the  commercial  adventurers,  the  true  heroes  of 
Venice  as  of  England.  The  Closing  of  the  Great  Council 
gave  them  their  opportunity ;  the  few,  as  ever,  drove  the 
many,  the  futile  democracy  was  demolished,  and  Venice  rose 
up,  ready  to  face  even  the  Pope  in  the  patriotic  cause.  In 
1308  war  was  declared,  though  the  Pope,  in  vain,  placed  the 
city  under  an  interdict. 

At  first  Venice  was  not  successful.  The  Venetian  garrison 
in  the  Rocca  of  Ferrara  was  put  to  the  sword  ;  she  made 
peace,  and  bought  her  rights  again  from  the  Ferrarese.  But 
what  she  had  failed  to  attain  by  war,  the  security  of  her  trade, 
she,  restless,  sought  at  once  to  achieve  by  treaty.  In  131 7 
we  find  her  making  treaties  with  Milan,  Brescia,  Bologna, 
Como,  and  for  the  political  cause  of  all  this  we  look  to  Genoa. 
We  hear  of  her  goods  in  Flanders  and  in  England.  Yet  more 
and  more  the  patriotic  policy  of  her  merchant  adventurers  was 
forced  upon  her  by  circumstances,  and  this  because  it  was  the 
way  of  life. 

Those  circumstances  were  indeed  formidable  enough.  On 
the  sea  the  long  Genoese  campaigns  were  yet  to  be  fought  and 
won ;  on  the  mainland  the  growing  trade  of  Venice,  the  com- 
mercial treaties  she  had  made  brought  her  face  to  face  with 
the  military  powers  of  Venetia  and  of  Lombardy,  with  the 
Scala  of  Verona,  the  Carrara  of  Padua,  the  Visconti  of  Milan. 
Of  these  the  first  to  be  faced  were  the  Scala  of  Verona.  The 
greatest  member  of  this  great  house,  Can  Grande  himself,  had 
by  1328  become  master  of  Vicenza  and  Padua.  In  the 
following  year  Mastino  della  Scala  took  Feltre,  Belluno,  and 
Treviso.  What  did  this  mean  for  Venice  ?  Open  any  map 
of  Northern  Italy,  and  it  will  at  once  be  obvious  that  such  a 
move  on  the  part  of  Verona  gave  the  lords  of  that  city  an 
absolute  command  of  the  westward  trade  of  the  lagoons. 
Venice  was  completely  hemmed  in  on  the  mainland.  Padua 
and  Vicenza,  supported  by  Verona,  held  her  immediately ;  on 
the  north  Treviso,  backed  by  the  Piave,  held  the  way,  while 


224  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

Feltre  and  Belluno  closed  the  mountains  against  her.  This 
action  on  the  part  of  the  Scala  struck  at  the  very  existence  of 
Venice,  for  her  wealth  was  dependent  on  the  markets  of  the 
west  and  north,  the  roads  to  which  these  cities  held.  For 
every  ounce  of  merchandise  she  sent  forth  she  must  hence- 
forth pay  Mastino  della  Scala  tribute — an  ever-growing  tribute. 
Venice  replied  at  once  by  cutting  off  his  salt  supply,  but  that 
was  of  little  effect.  Her  true  reply  was  war,  and  she  at  once 
prepared  to  make  it.  And  here,  again,  Venetian  history 
is  very  like  that  of  England.  There  was,  we  read,  a  party 
in  Venice  which  strongly  opposed  the  war.  Such  creatures 
seem  even  then  to  have  been  the  curse  of  their  country. 
Apparently  a  Pro-Scala  Doge  was  in  power,  but  either  cir- 
cumstances were  too  strong  for  him  or  the  Venetians  had  a 
better  and  a  readier  way  of  dealing  with  their  traitors  than 
we  have  with  ours.  We  do  not  read  that  the  Doge  was 
allowed  to  escape  from  the  angry  citizens  in  the  disguise 
of  one  of  the  city  police,  but  we  do  read  that  war 
was  declared  and  Venice  saved,  and  that  from  this  time 
Venice  set  herself  to  found  a  dominion  on  the  mainland,  a 
dominion  which  for  good  government,  happiness,  and  the 
administration  of  justice  had  no  equal  in  any  other  part  of 
Italy,  or  perhaps  of  Europe. 

The  Doge  had  bolstered  up  his  counsel  of  non-resistance  by 
the  assertion  that  the  Republic  had  no  army  and  would  be 
compelled  to  employ  mercenaries.  In  this  he  was,  as  it 
proved,  entirely  at  sea.  Venice  raised  a  native  army  from 
her  own  sons  between  the  ages  of  twenty  and  sixty  years; 
but  her  real  triumph  was  one  of  diplomacy.  For  now  that 
she  showed  her  readiness  and  capacity  to  fight,  she  was  able 
to  find  allies  in  the  Florentines,  the  Rossi  of  Parma,  the 
Visconti  of  Milan,  and  the  Gonzaga  of  Mantua 3  and,  as  it 
proved,  Rossi  of  Parma  alone  was  so  formidable  an  enemy, 
that  Mastino  della  Scala  sought  terms  of  Venice.  In  this 
business  he  employed  Marsilio  di  Carrara,  his  governor  in 
Padua,  a  member  of  the  family  which  the  Scala  had  displaced 
in  1328.     Why  he  chose  such  an  unproved  and  dangerous 


TO  TREVISO  225 

instrument  we  do  not  know.  What  we  know  is  that  Carrara 
turned  traitor  and  came  to  secret  terms  with  the  Doge.  He 
agreed  to  make  Venice  mistress  of  Padua  on  condition  that  he 
himself  was  established  there  as  Signore.  Scala  was  undone. 
Visconti  was  all  but  in  Brescia,  which  Scala  in  vain  tried  to 
relieve,  only  to  learn  that  in  his  absence  Rossi  of  Parma  had 
actually  taken  Padua  and  that  Venice  was  in  possession  of 
it  and  the  House  of  Carrara  restored.  Then  Brescia  fell. 
Mastino  della  Scala  sued  for  peace,  which  was  given  him  in 
1339  on  the  following  conditions  so  far  as  Venice  was  con- 
cerned. The  Republic  was  to  have  and  to  hold  as  part  of  her 
dominion  the  cities  and  territories  of  Treviso  and  Bassano, 
and  to  recover  her  original  commercial  rights  in  Vicenza  and 
Verona. 

What  did  this  mean  to  Venice?  It  meant  three  things. 
In  the  first  place  Treviso  gave  her  the  road  from  the  sea  to 
the  mountains,  while  Bassano  gave  her  the  command  and 
control  of  a  great  pass  over  the  Alps  into  the  Germanies.  In 
the  second  place  it  gave  her  a  vast  corn-growing  district  and 
a  fine  pasture  land,  so  that  her  food  supply  was  assured  so 
long  as  she  could  hold  what  she  had  won.  In  the  third  place 
it  founded  her  dominion  on  the  mainland. 

Treviso,  then,  holds  a  very  important  place  in  the  history  of 
Venice,  and  its  acquisition  marks  the  beginning  of  a  new 
period.  Yet  I  suppose  that  no  one  visiting  this  prosperous 
little  town  of  33,000  inhabitants,  the  capital  of  a  province  and 
see  of  a  bishop,  would  realize  as  much  to-day  as  he  passed  up 
and  down  the  narrow  arcaded  streets  and  in  and  out  of  the 
great  bare  churches.  Yet  this,  perhaps,  would  strike  him,  that 
Treviso  was  the  birthplace  of  three  great  painters  of  the 
Venetian  school — Lorenzo  Lotto,  Rocco  Marconi,  and  Paris 
Bordone.  And  in  noting  this  fact  he  would  be  right.  For 
Venice  gained  more  than  security,  more  than  a  permanent 
food  supply,  more  than  a  free  trade  route  by  the  war  which 
ended  in  the  annexation  of  this  territory.  She  gained  the 
energy  and  genius  of  its  people ;  for  this  follows  as  the  night 
the  day,  that  to  him  that  hath  shall  be  given.  Had  Venice 
Q 


226  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

followed  the  craven  and  provincial  policy  of  her  Doge,  she 
would  have  lost  more  than  those  material  advantages  for 
which  she  waged  her  war ;  she  would  have  lost  the  new 
spiritual  energy  and  strength  which  she  thus  gathered  to 
herself.  She,  too,  was  of  the  number  of  those,  and  they 
include  us  all,  who  do  not  know  what  they  are  doing. 

If  we  set  out  to  explore  Treviso,  as  I  suppose  most  travellers 
do,  from  the  Railway  Station,  we  shall  first  cross  the  Canal 
Polveriera,  an  artificial  branch  of  the  river  Sile.  We  thus 
enter  the  city  by  the  Barriera  Vittorio  Emanuele,  and  passing 
through  this  Borgo  and  crossing  the  river  itself,  we  enter  the 
city  proper  by  the  Via  Vittorio  Emanuele.  The  walls  which 
on  all  sides,  save  this  which  is  guarded  by  the  river,  surround 
the  city  and  are  flanked  by  moats  or  canals  are  the  work  of 
Fra  Giocondo,  one  of  the  most  famous  engineers  and  architects 
of  the  Renaissance,  born  in  Verona.  They  date  from  the  end 
of  the  fifteenth  century.  Following  the  Via  Vittorio  Emanuele 
across  another  canal — a  canal  which  passes  through  the  whole 
city — we  presently  come  to  a  little  piazza,  out  of  which  on  the 
left  the  Via  Venti  Settembre  leads  into  the  Piazza  dei  Signori. 
If  we  were  to  judge  of  Treviso  by  the  names  of  its  chief  streets, 
we  might  think  that  it  was  scarcely  fifty  years  old.  The  Piazza 
dei  Signori,  however,  tells  another  story.  Here  stand  the 
Palazzo  Pubblico,  and  behind  the  Palazzo  Pubblico  the 
Monte  di  Pieta.  We  pass  out  of  the  Piazza  by  the  Via 
Calmaggiore  on  the  left,  which  presently  brings  us  straight  to 
the  Duomo. 

The  Cathedral  of  S.  Peter,  chiefly  a  building  with  fine 
domes  by  Tullio  Lombardo  in  the  fifteenth  century,  has  a 
fine  Renaissance  portico,  on  whose  steps  are  two  ancient 
porphyry  lions.  Within,  by  the  first  pillar  on  the  left,  is  a 
statue  of  S.  Sebastian  by  Lorenzo  Bregno,  a  work  of  the 
early  sixteenth  century.  It  is  at  the  second  altar  on 
the  right,  however,  that  we  come  upon  a  work  by  one  of 
those  three  painters  born  in  Treviso  which  are  part  of 
the  glory  of  the  school  of  Venice.  It  is  a  Nativity  by 
Paris  Bordone. 


TO  TREVISO  227 

Paris  Bordone  was  born  at  Treviso  in  1500  and  died  in 
Venice  in  1570.  And  though  his  education  as  a  painter  was 
Venetian,  the  provincial  shows  itself  clearly  enough  in  his 
works  in  a  certain  personal  way  he  has  of  seeing  things  and 
expressing  them  for  himself.  Even  his  colour  is  not  altogether 
Venetian.  That  delicate  rosy  tinge  in  his  flesh,  the  purple 
and  shot  tints  of  his  draperies,  might  seem  to  be  inventions  of 
his  own,  as  are  certainly  the  strangely  crumpled  folds  of  his 
draperies.  The  greatest  of  his  works,  the  Fisherman  Pre- 
senting the  Ring  of  S.  Mark  to  the  Doge,  remains,  as  is  meet 
and  right,  in  Venice;  but  here  in  Treviso  we  have  several 
of  his  works,  among  them  this  Nativity  in  the  Duomo,  and 
Madonna  with  SS.  Sebastian  and  Jerome,  with  some  Gospel 
scenes,  and  a  small  picture  in  the  same  church,  together  with 
a  picture  in  the  Gallery. 

By  the  second  pillar  is  a  relief  of  the  Visitation  by  one  of 
the  Lombardi,  and  over  the  third  altar  on  the  left  a  fine  work 
by  Francesco  Bissolo  of  S.  Justina,  S.  John  the  Baptist,  and 
S.  Catherine  with  donor. 

Close  by  is  the  Renaissance  Cappella  del  S.  Sagramento,  to 
the  left  of  the  choir,  by  Lorenzo  and  Battista  Bregno  of  Verona. 
In  the  choir  itself  is  the  fine  tomb  of  Bishop  Zanetto  by  the 
Lombardi  and  some  modern  frescoes.  The  Cappella  Mal- 
chiostro,  to  the  right  of  the  choir,  contains  the  terra-cotta  bust 
of  the  founder,  Broccardo  Malchiostro,  who  died  in  1520,  and 
some  frescoes  of  that  date  by  Pordenone  and  Pomponio 
Amalteo,  showing  the  influence  of  Michelangelo's  work  in  the 
Sixtine  Chapel  in  the  Vatican.  In  the  antechapel,  too,  is  an 
interesting  work — a  Madonna  by  Girolamo  da  Treviso,  a 
painter  of  the  Paduan  school,  born  here  in  the  fifteenth 
century.  This  altarpiece,  which  has  considerable  merit,  is 
dated  1487,  and  would  seem  to  show,  for  all  the  Paduan 
education,  a  Belli nesque  influence.  The  great  treasure  of 
this  chapel,  however,  and  indeed  of  the  city  of  Treviso,  is 
the  picture  of  the  Annunciation  by  Titian  which  it  possesses. 
This  fine  picture  was  painted  for  Canon  Malchiostro,  the 
founder  of  the  chapel,  before   151 7,  when  Titian  brought 


228  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

the  finished  picture  with  him  to  Treviso.1  No  one,  I  think, 
who  has  ever  seen  this  picture  has  been  satisfied  with  it.  To 
begin  with,  the  donor  insisted,  apparently,  on  being  included 
in  the  scene.  The  result  is  that  here  we  have  an  impossible 
situation  presented  to  us.  We  see  a  priest  lurking  behind  a 
pillar,  eavesdropping,  while  Gabriel  delivers  his  message. 
Nothing  could  be  more  revolting.  Whether  Titian  himself  felt 
this  or  not,  who  can  say  ?  But  he  painted  Gabriel  as  coming 
in  with  so  much  haste,  and  altogether  in  so  great  a  confusion 
and  so  rudely,  that  we  understand  why  the  book  has  slipped 
from  Mary's  hand  and  why  she  lays  that  hand  as  though  in 
protest  upon  her  gentle  breast  and  is  all  confused.  We  have 
only  to  remember  such  masters  as  Lorenzo  Monaco,  Simone 
Martini,  Fra  Angelico,  and  Filippo  Lippi,  and  what  they  have 
made  for  all  time  of  this  scene — something  spellbound,  some- 
thing as  wonderfully  lovely  as  the  Alma  Redemptoris  Mater — 
to  be  altogether  disgusted  by  this  vulgarity  with  a  priest  for 
listener. 

In  the  sacristy  close  by  we  have  something  that  better 
contents  us :  a  very  interesting  picture  of  a  procession  in  the 
Piazza  del  Duomo  by  a  pupil  of  Paris  Bordone. 

One  other  work  of  Titian's,  though  sadly  faded,  remains  in 
Treviso.  I  mean  the  figure  of  Christ  which  he  painted  on  the 
facade  of  the  Scuola  del  Santissimo,  adjoining  the  Cathedral, 
when  he  came  to  Treviso  in  15 17.  This  was  a  representation 
of  the  risen  Christ  ascending  triumphantly  with  the  banner  of 
victory  in  His  hand.  Titian  was  more  than  once  in  Treviso 
about  this  time.  In  15 19  he  there  gave  his  opinion  as  an 
expert  in  favour  of  his  friend  Pordenone  in  a  dispute  that 
painter  had  with  his  employer,  who  had  refused  to  pay  for  the 
painting  of  a  fagade,  and  later  he  wanted  to  buy  a  quantity  of 
land  in  the  neighbourhood  from  the  monks  of  S.  Benedetto. 

His  work,  however,  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  little  Galleria 
Comunale  in  the  Borgo  Cavour,  which  is  reached  from  the 
Piazza  del  Duomo  by  the  Via  Riccati.     This  little  collection 

1  Biscaro,  Gazzetta  di  Treviso,  January,  i,  1898,  quoted  by  Gronau, 
"Titian"  (1904),  p.  297. 


TO  TREVISO  229 

contains  a  fine  altarpiece  by  Paris  Bordone,  a  Nativity  by 
Caprioli,  a  pupil  of  Bordone's,  painted  in  15 18,  and,  best  of 
all,  a  fine  portrait  of  a  Dominican  Friar,  painted  in  1526  by 
another  of  Treviso's  sons,  Lorenzo  Lotto,  by  whom  again 
there  is  a  very  wonderful  altarpiece,  a  lunette  of  the  Dead 
Christ,  an  early  work,  in  S.  Cristina,  some  five  miles  west 
of  Treviso  on  the  road  to  Padua. 

From  the  Gallery  we  pass  to  the  Via  Cavour,  where  we 
turn  left  into  the  broad  Via  delle  Mura  di  S.  Teonisto,  and 
passing  that  church  come  to  the  great  Dominican  sanctuary  of 
S.  Niccolb.  This  is  one  of  the  largest  Gothic  brick  churches 
in  Italy,  and  was  built  by  two  Dominicans  in  1310-1352. 
Over  the  High  Altar  is  a  picture  of  the  sixteenth  century — a 
Madonna  Enthroned  with  her  little  Son.  To  the  left  is  the 
tomb  of  Conte  d'  Onigo  (1494)  by  Tullio  Lombardo.  Its 
background  is  painted  by  some  pupil  of  Giovanni  Bellini. 
In  the  chapel  to  the  right  of  the  High  Altar  is  an  early  work 
by  Sebastiano  del  Piombo  of  Christ  and  S.  Thomas  with 
donors. 

Nothing  more  of  much  interest  remains  in  Treviso.  Only 
in  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  on  the  other  side  of  the  city,  is  the 
tomb  of  Mercurio  Bua,  the  condottiere,  and  in  the  Monte  di 
Pieta  is  a  fine  picture  of  the  Dead  Christ  by  Beccaruzzi, 
another  pupil  of  Pordenone. 


XVII 
CASTELFRANCO   AND   BASSANO 

THE  road  from  Treviso  to  Castelfranco  is  a  pleasant  way 
enough  in  the  springtime  when  the  tender  green  of  the 
new  leaf  gives  the  great  world  of  the  plain  an  almost  vivid 
radiance,  which  it  soon  loses  in  the  monotonous  richness  of 
early  summer,  the  dust  and  drought  of  July.  Pleasant  enough 
is  the  road,  but  it  can  boast  nothing  of  any  moment  to  diffe- 
rentiate it  from  half  a  hundred  others  that  cross  this  wide 
plain;  for  indeed  all  this  country  between  Venice  and  Milan 
is  much  the  same;  it  lacks  the  infinite  variety  of  Tuscany,  and 
indeed  of  every  part  of  Italy  proper,  and  is,  in  fact,  but  a  kind 
of  green  and  living  lagoon  where  desolation  has  been  changed 
into  plenty  and  misery  into  happiness. 

Nor  are  the  little  towns  one  passes  on  the  way  between 
Treviso  and  Castelfranco  of  much  beauty  or  interest.  There 
is  Paese  close  to  Treviso,  there  is  Istrana  not  quite  half-way, 
and  just  off  the  road  there  is  Vedelago  and  Salvatronda,  but 
they  are  all  much  alike,  and,  so  far  as  I  could  find,  there  is 
nothing  really  to  be  seen  in  any  one  of  them  save  their  own 
graciousness  and  humility. 

Castelfranco,  however,   is   not  as  these.     To  begin  with, 

Castelfranco   is  a   fully   developed  castello^   a   walled    town 

defended  by  the  Musone,  with  a  great  borgo  on  the  further 

side  of  the  river.     Moreover,  in  all  this  region  of  the  plain 

there  is  no  more  picturesque  city  than  this  of  Castelfranco. 

For  it  is  not  merely  walled  but  towered,  and  set,  as  it  seems, 

230 


CASTELFRANCO  231 

on  a  little  eminence  out  of  the  plain,  which  lends  it  so  much 
dignity  and  charm  that  had  Giorgione  never  lived  there,  had  he 
never  painted  the  beautiful  altarpiece  that  now  hangs  in  the 
Duomo,  still  one  would  go  to  Castelfranco,  I  think,  for  its 
own  sake,  and  put  up  at  the  Albergo  Stella  d'  Oro,  that  great 
posting-house,  and  watch  the  creepers  that  wreathe  the  old 
topless  towers  and  the  cypresses  that  count  the  hours  on  the 
old  red  walls,  and  sit  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  sacred  plane- 
trees. 

Nevertheless  it  would  be  but  folly  to  ignore  facts  as  they 
are,  and  so  it  must  be  admitted  that  of  all  the  foreign 
travellers  who  come  to  Castelfranco,  mostly  for  a  brief  day 
by  train  from  Venice,  scarcely  one  comes  for  any  other 
reason  than  that  Giorgione  was  born  here,  or  for  any  other 
purpose  than  to  see  that  fine  picture  of  his  in  the  Duomo,  the 
Madonna  enthroned  with  her  little  Son  between  S.  Francis 
and  S.  Liberale. 

An  extraordinary  legend  has  adorned  out  of  all  recognition 
whatever  may  have  been  the  brief  life-story  of  perhaps  the 
greatest  of  Venetian  painters.  Vasari's  "  Life,"  helped  out  by 
Ridolfi,  makes  us  acquainted  with  a  biography  which  is  sure 
in  none  of  its  outlines,  is  delightfully  vague  in  dates  and  rich 
in  suggestiveness,  and  for  the  authenticity  of  which  we  have, 
alas  !  not  a  single  tittle  of  evidence. 

Vasari,  indeed,  opens  his  tale  with  an  assertion  that, 
generally  speaking,  all  who  are  acquainted  with  Giorgione's 
works  will  readily  accept.  He  says,  "  The  city  of  Venice 
obtained  no  small  glory  from  the  talents  and  excellence  of 
one  of  her  citizens,  by  whom  the  Bellini,  then  held  in  so 
much  esteem,  were  very  far  surpassed,  as  were  all  others  who 
had  practised  painting  up  to  that  time  in  that  city."  This  in 
reference  to  Giorgione  may  be  true  enough,  but  it  does  not 
carry  us  very  far.  Vasari,  however,  goes  on  to  give  us  the 
few  facts  in  his  possession.  He  tells  us  that  "  This  was 
Giorgio,  born  in  the  year  1478  at  Castelfranco,  in  the  territory 
of  Treviso.  .  .  .  Giorgio  was  at  a  later  period  called  Giorgione, 
as  well  from  the  character  of  his  person  as  for  the  exaltation  of 


232  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

his  mind.  He  was  of  very  humble  origin,  but  was  neverthe- 
less very  pleasing  in  manner  and  most  estimable  in  character 
through  the  whole  course  of  his  life.  Brought  up  at  Venice, 
he  took  no  small  delight  in  love  passages  and  in  the  sound  of 
the  lute,  to  which  he  was  so  cordially  devoted,  and  which  he 
practised  so  constantly,  that  he  played  and  sang  with  the  most 
exquisite  perfection,  insomuch  that  he  was  for  this  cause 
frequently  invited  to  musical  assemblies  and  festivals  by  the 
most  distinguished  personages." 

So  far  Vasari ;  let  us  see  what  he  has  told  us.  He  says 
that  Giorgione  was  born  in  1478  at  Castelfranco.  The  date, 
I  think,  every  one  has  accepted,  but  Vedelago,  the  village  on 
the  road  to  Treviso,  claims  as  well  as  Castelfranco  the  honour 
of  being  Giorgione's  birthplace.  However,  he  is  generally 
called  Giorgione  da  Castelfranco,  and  no  one  has  yet  success- 
fully contested  the  general  opinion  that  he  was  born  there. 
Vasari  calls  him  Giorgio,  and  adds  that  he  was  later  called 
Giorgione  for  certain  of  his  qualities.  He  omits  altogether  to 
tell  us  that  the  painter's  family  name  was  Barbarelli,  but  he 
emphasizes  what  for  me,  at  least,  is  one  of  the  most  important 
things  in  Giorgione's  life — his  love  of  and  gift  for  music,  for, 
according  to  Vasari,  it  was  this  and  not  his  painting  which 
won  him  his  entry  into  Venetian  society.  The  love  of  music 
and  the  training  in  that  art  thus  emphasized  by  Vasari  seem 
to  me  of  as  much  importance  as  any  date  or  fact  of  birth, 
because  they  give  us  the  key  to  the  charm  of  so  many  of 
Giorgione's  fine  works ;  they  are  a  kind  of  visible  music. 
And,  indeed,  music  like  a  gold  thread  seems  woven  into  most 
of  them,  in  the  choice  of  subject,  as,  for  instance,  in  the 
"  Shepherd  with  a  Pipe "  at  Hampton  Court,  or  the  Fete 
Champetre  of  the  Louvre,  or  the  Apollo  and  Daphne  of  the 
Seminario  at  Venice,  or,  again,  in  those  Giorgionesque  works 
now  attributed  too  completely  to  Titian,  the  Concert  of  the 
Pitti  Palace  or  the  Sacred  and  Profane  Love  of  the  Borghese 
Gallery.  But  everywhere  in  the  work  of  Giorgione,  whether 
the  mere  subject  suggests  music  or  no,  the  treatment  and  the 
expression  always  do,  as  though  he  alone  had  suddenly  come 


CASTELFRANCO  233 

to  understand  that  truth  expressed  for  us  once  and  for  all  by 
Walter  Pater :  "All  art  constantly  aspires  towards  the  condi- 
tion of  music.  For  while  in  all  other  kinds  of  art  it  is  possible 
to  distinguish  the  matter  from  the  form,  and  the  understanding 
can  always  make  this  distinction,  yet  it  is  the  constant  effort 
of  art  to  obliterate  it.  That  the  mere  matter  of  a  poem,  for 
instance,  its  subject,  namely,  its  given  incidents  or  situation — 
that  the  mere  matter  of  a  picture,  the  actual  circumstances  of 
an  event,  the  actual  topography  of  a  landscape — should  be 
nothing  without  the  form,  the  spirit  of  the  handling,  that  this 
form,  this  mode  of  handling  should  become  an  end  in  itself, 
should  penetrate  every  part  of  the  matter ;  this  is  what  all  art 
constantly  strives  after  and  achieves  in  different  degrees." 
This  seems  to  me  to  be  something  like  the  vraie  verite,  and 
how  well  it  explains  for  us  the  secret  of  the  charm  of  Gior- 
gione's  pictures !  What,  then,  is  the  subject  of  the  Fete 
Champetre  of  the  Louvre,  the  Apollo  and  Daphne  of  the 
Seminario,  the  Sacred  and  Profane  Love  of  the  Borghese 
Gallery,  the  Concert  of  the  Pitti  Palace?  Men  have  con- 
tended about  their  titles  for  centuries.  What  is  the  subject 
of  Beethoven's  Seventh  Symphony  or  the  Third  Ballade  of 
Chopin  ?  I  know  not ;  only  those  pictures,  like  these  pieces 
of  music,  seem  to  express  something  that  is  in  the  world 
though  in  no  satisfying  measure,  to  express  what  is  otherwise 
inexpressible,  and  without  them  would  cease  to  exist  for  us ; 
for  it  lives  only  in  their  beauty,  and  by  them  we  are  made 
aware  of  it. 

It  is  almost  the  same  with  the  Gipsy  and  the  Soldier  of 
Prince  Giovanelli,  only  there,  I  think,  anyone  who  has  ever 
doubted  that  Giorgione  was  born  at  Castelfranco  has  his 
answer,  for  it  is  that  little  towered  city  beside  the  Musone 
that  we  see  in  the  background,  under  that  gathering  storm 
sweeping  down  from  the  hills. 

This  little  city,  set  so  deliciously  beside  a  torrent  in  the  midst 
of  a  country  that  in  its  rhythmical  beauty,  its  vague  outline, 
and  submission  to  the  effect  and  colour  of  sun  and  cloud,  of 
dawn  and  sunset,  has  itself  much  of  the  spirit  of  a  Giorgione 


234  VENICE   AND   VENETIA 

picture,  is  the  happy  possessor  of  what  will  ever  remain,  I 
suppose,  the  work  that  is  most  certainly  his  very  own — I  mean 
the  altarpiece  of  the  Madonna  enthroned  with  her  little  Son 
between  S.  Francis  and  S.  Liberate.  This  glorious  picture 
was,  as  is  generally  admitted,  painted  in  1504,  and,  to  my 
mind,  is  one  of  the  very  few  Venetian  pictures — Giorgione's 
altarpiece  in  Madrid  is  another — which  possess  that  serenity 
and  peace,  something  in  truth  spellbound,  that  is  necessary  to 
and  helps  to  make  what  I  may  call  a  religious  picture.  For 
something  must  be  added  to  beauty,  something  must  be  added 
to  art,  to  achieve  that  end  which  Perugino  seems  to  have 
reached  so  easily,  and  which  almost  every  Sienese  painter 
knew  by  instinct  how  to  attain.  That  quality  is  serenity, 
the  something  spellbound  we  find  here.  And  Giorgione  is  the 
last  Venetian  master  to  possess  that  secret.  Is  it  not  the  same 
in  music?  God  forbid  that  I  should  claim  that  Palestrina 
is  a  greater  master  than  Mozart,  any  more  than  I  should 
claim  that  Giorgione  is  greater  than  Titian.  It  remains, 
however,  that  just  as  Giorgione,  the  Sienese  and  Perugino, 
to  name  no  others,  attained  to  this  effect,  while  Titian, 
Tintoretto,  Michelangelo,  and  a  host  of  very  great  masters 
could  not,  so  Palestrina,  Byrd,  and  di  Lasso  could 
achieve  it,  yet  Mozart,  Beethoven,  and  the  rest  never  once 
in  all  their  work — something  has  gone  out  of  the  world 
of  which  we  are  ignorant,  only  we  miss  it  more  and  more 
in  looking  back  on  the  beauty  that  was  in  the  hearts 
of  our  fathers. 

As  for  Giorgione,  we  must  picture  him  as  leaving  Castel- 
franco  with  his  lute  and  his  music  and  going  to  Venice,  where 
he  certainly  entered  the  bottega  of  Giovanni  Bellini,  who 
seems  to  have  loved  music  too,  if  one  may  judge  him  by  his 
music-making  angels,  which  lie  ever  at  the  feet  of  Madonna 
like  flowers  almost.  There  in  Venice  he  seems  to  have  been 
welcome,  at  first  at  any  rate,  if  we  may  believe  Vasari,  for  his 
skill  in  music,  and  maybe  it  was  to  please  those  patrons,  that 
he  presently  invented  that  new  form  of  picture,  the  easel 
picture,  only  vaguely  subjective,  concerned  really  with  a  sort 


CASTELFRANCO  235 

of  music  he  discerned  in  that  evening  hour  on  the  wide  plain 
that  was  his  home,  where  the  cities  seem  so  small  and  so  far 
away,  and  the  sky  and  the  earth  so  full  of  a  half-expressed 
poetry  or  music. 

Very  few  of  his  works  have  come  down  to  us,  but  the 
earliest  we  possess,  according  to  Morelli,  are  the  so-called 
Trial  by  Fire  and  the  Judgment  of  Solomon,  now  in  the 
Uffizi,  and  the  half-length  figure  of  Christ  bearing  the  Cross 
in  the  Loschi  Collection  at  Vicenza.  These  all  recall  his 
master,  Giovanni  Bellini.  Then,  according  to  the  same 
critic,  comes  the  Castelfranco  picture.  All  this  is,  however, 
nothing  but  fine  conjecture.  Whatever  else  Giorgione  did  in 
Venice  in  his  too  brief  life,  he  certainly  fell  in  love  "with  a 
lady,"  Vasari  says,  "  who  returned  his  affection  with  equal 
warmth,  and  they  were  immeasurably  devoted  to  each  other." 
Is  it  she  we  see  as  Madonna  in  this  Castelfranco  picture  and 
again  in  the  beautiful  altarpiece  in  Madrid?  Tradition  has  it 
so,  and  it  is  part  of  my  creed  to  accept  tradition.  And,  as  it 
happens,  tradition  tells  us  one  fact  more,  namely,  that  it  was 
through  this  lady  he  came  by  his  early  death.  For  as  one 
story  goes,  that  of  Vasari,  his  mistress  was  attacked  by  the 
plague,  which  he  took  from  her  along  with  her  kisses,  and  so 
departed.  The  other  tale  is  less  happy,  and  we  owe  its  cur- 
rency to  Ridolfi,  who  says  that  Giorgione  died  of  despair  at 
the  infidelity  of  his  lady  and  the  ingratitude  of  his  disciple, 
Pietro  Luzzo  of  Feltre,  called  Zarotto,  by  whom  she  had  been 
seduced  from  him.  Lanzi  accepts  this  story,  and  will  have  it 
that  Pietro  Luzzo  is  Morto  da  Feltre ;  but  the  other  as  tragic 
but  less  unhappy  story  has  always  held  the  field,  and  as  there 
is  no  tittle  of  evidence  for  either,  it  seems  a  pity  to  let 
it  go. 

Giorgione  died,  as  we  think,  in  1510-1511,  in  his  thirty-fourth 
year.  His  vague  story,  his  exquisite,  serene  picture,  fill  our 
minds  in  Castelfranco,  where,  in  fact,  there  is  little  enough  to 
see  and  nothing  to  note  save  the  play  of  sun  and  cloud  on  the 
old  towered  and  tufted  walls  that  stand  so  well  in  the  vast 
plain,  and  nothing  to  do  but  to  pray  to  the  mountains. 


236  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

For  in  Castelfranco,  as  everywhere  in  that  great  flatness,  it 
is  the  mountains  that  call  one,  that  beseech  one  night  and  day, 
and  will  not  let  one  be.  It  was  therefore  one  morning  I  set 
out  for  Montebelluno,  which,  I  told  myself,  was  Portia's 
Belmont,  as  I  think  it  is,  and  for  those  who  think  that  villa 
was  on  the  Brenta,  I  would  say  that  Montebelluno  is  close  to 
Can  Brentettone.  Nothing  but  the  hills  is  to  be  seen  at 
Montebelluno,  but  it  is  a  fine  point  of  departure  for  a 
delightful  drive  through  Asolo  to    Bassano. 

The  road  crosses  the  foothills  of  the  Montebello  range 
and  at  once  proceeds  to  cross  the  plain  to  Maser,  under 
the  Monti  Bassanesi.  Here  is  a  great  villa,  built  by  Palladio 
for  Marcantonio  Barbaro,  and  painted  with  frescoes  for  the 
same  noble  by  Paolo  Veronese.  The  frescoes  are  admirably 
lovely,  and  the  whole  villa,  with  its  air  of  the  sixteenth 
century  and  ancient  luxury,  is  worth  almost  any  trouble 
to  see,  which  one  is  permitted  to  do  by  the  generous 
owner.  The  road  from  Maser,  after  finally  passing  through 
Crespignaga,  climbs  some  six  hundred  feet  into  Asolo, 
whence  there  is  a  great  view  over  all  this  flat  country  and 
of  the  great  mountains  in  whose  shadow  the  little  town  lies. 
Here  Queen  Caterina  Cornaro  from  Cyprus  dwelt  in  exile. 
Born  in  1454,  this  unfortunate  lady  married  King  James 
II  of  Cyprus  in  1472.  After  her  husband's  death  the 
Venetians  claimed  the  island,  and  kept  Queen  Caterina  for 
some  time  a  prisoner,  though  she  was  far  from  unfairly  dealt 
with.  Free  in  1489,  she  set  up  her  home  in  Asolo,  and  kept 
there  a  court  of  poets.  Pietro  Bembo,  later  to  be  cardinal, 
here  composed  his  "  Asolani."  There  is  little  to  be  seen  in 
the  old  and  shrunken  city  save  some  wonderful  views,  and  in 
the  Duomo  a  spoiled  but  still  charming  altarpiece  by  Lorenzo 
Lotto  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  with  S.  Anthony  and 
S.  Basil. 

Leaving  Asolo  and  the  memory  of  its  ruined  Lady,  we  pass 
on  by  a  pleasant  road  enough  under  the  hills  to  Bassano. 
Just  before  we  enter  Bassano  we  may  see,  if  we  look  south- 
ward across  the  plain,  the  ruined  Rocca  of  Romano,  where 


BASSANO  237 

one  who  had  a  profound  influence  on  the  history  not  only  of 
Bassano,  but  of  all  this  country  so  far  as  Verona,  was  born. 
Ecelino  da  Romano  first  saw  the  light  here  in  1194.  He  was 
the  dreadful  flower  of  a  dreadful  race.  He  seems  at  last  to 
have  regarded  himself  "  with  a  sort  of  awful  veneration  as  the 
divinely  appointed  scourge  of  humanity."  After  his  death  he 
became  a  name  of  dread  such  as  none  other  was  but  Totila. 
Yet  he  founded  a  state  that  in  its  day  was  perhaps  the  most 
powerful  in  Northern  Italy  and  certainly  the  most  dreaded. 
This  consisted  not  merely  of  Bassano  and  Treviso  and  their 
contadi)  but  of  Verona,  Vicenza,  Padua,  Feltre,  and  Belluno. 
He  was  a  Ghibelline,  and  his  abuse  of  power  became  so 
terrible  that  the  Pope,  Alexander  IV,  issued  letters  for  a 
crusade  against  him,  and  it  was  actually  preached  at  Ravenna 
by  the  Archbishop  in  1255. 

Villani,  the  Florentine  chronicler,  says  of  him :  "  This 
Ecelino  was  the  most  cruel  and  redoubtable  tyrant  that  ever 
was  among  Christians,  and  ruled  by  his  force  and  his  tyranny 
(being  by  birth  a  gentleman  of  the  house  of  Romano)  long 
time  the  Trevisan  March  and  the  city  of  Padua  and  a  great 
part  of  Lombardy;  and  he  brought  to  an  end  a  very  great 
part  of  the  citizens  of  Padua  and  blinded  great  numbers  of 
the  best  and  most  noble,  taking  their  possessions  and  sending 
them  begging  through  the  world,  and  many  others  he  put  to 
death  by  divers  sufferings  and  torments,  and  burnt  at  one  time 
11,000  Paduans;  and  by  reason  of  their  innocent  blood  by 
miracle  no  grass  grew  there  again  for  evermore.  And  under 
semblance  of  a  rugged  and  cruel  justice  he  did  much  evil  and 
was  a  great  scourge  in  his  time  in  the  Trevisan  March  and  in 
Lombardy,  to  punish  them  for  the  sin  of  ingratitude.  At  last, 
as  it  pleased  God  by  less  powerful  men  than  his  own,  he  was 
vilely  defeated  and  slain,  and  all  his  followers  were  dispersed 
and  his  family  and  his  rule  came  to  nought." 

Such  was  Ecelino  da  Romano.  We  shall  find  him  every- 
where as  we  pass  through  these  cities  and  shall  recall  his 
dwarfish,  wizened  figure  of  hate  never  without  a  shudder.  He 
died  in   1260  of  his  wounds,  from  which  he  tore  away  the 


238  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

bandages  of  his  foes.     In  Dante's  universe  we  find  him  in  the 
seventh  circle  of  the  Inferno. 

Now  of  all  the  places  between  the  mountains  and  Venice 
Bassano  is  the  best,  and  the  jolliest  to  live  in.  It  is  not 
like  an  Italian  town,  its  great  bridge  is  not  like  an  Italian 
bridge,  nor  are  its  mountains  like  Italian  mountains ;  there  is 
something  of  Germany  in  all  of  them,  and  looking  up  to  the 
great  hills  who  can  wonder  at  it  ?  The  frontier  cannot  be  ten 
miles  away.  Yet  for  all  its  air  of  the  north  Bassano  is  a  very 
charming  place,  full  of  hospitable  folk,  too,  who  are  proud  of 
their  city,  which  indeed  contains  all  the  usual  ingredients  of  an 
Italian  town — fine  and  interesting  churches,  a  noble  Palazzo 
Pubblico,  towers,  palaces,  terraces,  walks,  and  as  splendid  a 
view  as  is  to  be  had  in  all  this  country,  as  splendid  and  as 
surprising. 

The  story  of  Bassano  has  been  exceedingly  eventful.  In 
the  clamour  of  the  end  of  the  Dark  Ages  it  was  held  in  feud  by 
the  Ecelini  from  the  Bishops  of  Vicenza.  Their  dominion 
raised  the  first  circuit  of  walls,  of  which  almost  nothing 
remains  but  an  old  tower.  When  their  appalling  rule  vanished 
at  last  in  a  sea  of  blood,  Bassano  was  for  a  little  a  free  Com- 
mune with  a  republican  form  of  government.  It  was,  however, 
but  a  small  place,  and  as  holding  the  mountains  was  coveted 
both  by  Vicenza  and  Padua.  Padua  seems  to  have  prevailed, 
and  when  the  Scala  of  Verona  seized  Padua  in  the  fourteenth 
century  Bassano  also  was  ceded  to  them.  Then,  as  we  know, 
came  Venice,  and  Bassano  with  Treviso  made,  as  we  have 
seen,  her  first  acquisitions  on  the  mainland.  Bassano  knew 
many  vicissitudes  after  that,  however,  and  fell  into  hands  as 
various  as  those  of  the  Carraresi  and  the  Visconti,  but  in  the 
fifteenth  century  she  gave  herself  spontaneously  to  Venice, 
under  whose  excellent  government  she  remained  till  1797. 

However  one  may  come  to  Bassano,  one  is  sure  to  come 
first  into  the  long  Piazza  or  market,  with  its  fine  old  houses 
still  faintly  frescoed,  for  all  the  roads  lead  thither.  Here  are 
two  fine  churches,  the  upper  of  which,  S.  Franceso,  erected  in 
1 158  by  Ecelino  il  Balbo,  is  the  finer  and  historically  the 


BASSANO  239 

more  interesting.  This  church  was  restored  at  various  periods, 
but  it  still  retains  sufficient  antiquity  to  interest  us,  and  its 
campanile  is  beautiful.  Within  the  church,  on  the  right,  is  a 
fresco  by  Guariento. 

Among  the  other  churches  S.  Donato  in  Via  Angarano,  is 
to  be  noted.  It  was  built  by  Ecelino  il  Monaco  in  1208, 
and  there  he  divided  his  possessions  between  his  two  sons, 
Ecelino  IV  and  Alberico,  in  1223.  A  Franciscan  convent 
was  added  to  it,  and  it  is  said  that  there  S.  Francis  of  Assisi 
and  S.  Antonio  of  Padua  stayed. 

The  Duomo  to  the  north  of  the  city  is  interesting  for  its 
pictures  by  Jacopo  Bassano,  born  here  in  1501,  who  was  the 
pupil  of  Bonifazio  and  died  at  eighty  years  of  age.  Like  all 
the  Venetian  school,  he  was  a  painter  of  genre,  only  with  him 
that  came  to  mean  painting  just  country  scenes  about  his 
home,  the  life  of  peasants  and  farmers,  out  of  which  he  con- 
trived numberless  scenes  in  the  life  of  Christ  or  the  lives  of 
the  Saints.  Here  in  the  Duomo  are  the  Assumption  of  the 
Virgin,  with  portraits  of  Charles  V,  the  Doge  of  Venice,  the 
Pope,  and  so  forth,  which  are  less  characteristic  than  usual. 
But  on  the  other  side  of  the  church  we  find  him  altogether 
himself  in  a  fine  Nativity  and  a  Martyrdom  of  S.  Stephen. 
There  is  a  fine  Crucifix  to  be  seen  close  by  Jacopo's  first 
picture. 

Close  by  the  Duomo  is  the  old  broken  palace  of  the 
Ecelini,  now  partly  occupied  by  the  Dean  of  the  Cathedral — 
a  picturesque  place. 

As  for  pictures,  one  may  have  one's  fill  of  them  in  the  Museo 
Civico,  not  far  from  S.  Francesco,  in  the  convent  indeed  once 
attached  to  that  church,  built  on  the  site  of  the  cell  where 
S.  Francis  and  S.  Antony  are  said  to  have  stayed.  The  col- 
lection is  chiefly  interesting,  as  it  should  be,  for  the  works  of 
the  Bassanesi,  of  whom  Francesco,  Jacopo,  and  Leandro  were 
the  chief. 

In  the  first  room  we  have  a  picture  by  Francesco  Bassano, 
the  father  of  the  more  famous  Jacopo,  of  the  Madonna  and 
Child  with    S.   Peter  and  S.   Paul.      Here,   too,   are  three 


24o  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

pictures  by  Jacopo — S.  Valentine  Christening  a  Dumb  Girl 
(15),  the  Nativity  (17),  and  S.  John  in  the  Desert  (19),  and  a 
Deposition  (22)  by  Leandro  Bassano,  the  son  of  Jacopo. 

In  the  second  room  is  a  great  painted  Crucifix  by  Guariento 
of  Padua,  and  some  works  of  the  school  of  Mantegna.  The 
third  room  is  devoted  to  the  memory  of  Canova,  who  was  born 
at  Possagno,  near  by,  in  1757.  His  original  models  for  his 
Venus  and  Hebe  are  here  and  casts  of  other  of  his  works. 

It  is  not  these  things,  however,  that  would  keep  a  man 
more  than  a  single  day  in  Bassano.  The  charm  of  Bassano 
lies  not  in  her  churches,  her  palaces,  and  her  pictures,  but  in 
herself,  in  the  unique  position  she  occupies  in  regard  to  the 
mountains,  and  in  the  great  views  she  commands  of  mountain 
and  valley.  One  realizes  this  at  once,  and  best  of  all,  I  think, 
from  the  great  and  lofty  terraced  road  to  the  north  of  the  city, 
whence  one  sees  the  ruins  of  the  castello  of  the  Ecelini,  and, 
beyond  a  wide  green  valley,  the  sudden  rise  of  the  mountains 
in  gigantic  precipices  and  vast  cliffs  of  rugged  stone.  They 
stand  like  a  wall  which  no  man  could  breach,  but  which  the 
river  has  broken,  so  that  from  the  gate  of  Bassano  these 
mountains  may  be  passed. 

Nor  is  the  charm  of  Bassano  less  felt  on  the  western  side  of 
the  town,  where  the  little  foothills  rise  in  the  distance  beyond 
the  borgo  which  the  river,  crossed  here  by  its  strange  wooden 
roofed  bridge,  divides  from  the  city  proper. 

This  bridge  over  the  swiftly  flowing  Brenta  has  a  long 
history.  No  one  knows  when  the  first  bridge  was  built  here, 
but  we  hear  of  one  in  1209  for  the  first  time  and  of  rebuildings 
in  1450  and  1499.  The  structure  was  always  of  wood,  and  it 
was  always  being  burned  down,  which  befell  again  in  1 5 1 1  in 
the  war  of  the  League  of  Cambrai.  It  was  rebuilt  in  1522, 
and  then  again,  in  stone  this  time,  in  1525,  only  to  be  rebuilt 
in  wood  in  1 53 1.  A  flood  destroyed  it  in  1567,  and  Palladio 
rebuilt  it  in  1570.  This  seems,  though  repaired,  to  have 
lasted  till  1748,  when  a  new  bridge  was  built  on  the  old 
model,  only  to  be  burnt  in  181 3,  and  finally  rebuilt  as  we  see 
it  in  1 82 1.     Passing  across  this  bridge,  we  come  into  the  Borgo 


CITTADELLA  241 

Angarano,  where  stands  the  Church  of  S.  Donato,  built,  as  I 
have  said,  in  1208  by  Ecelino  il  Monaco. 

But  I  cannot  sum  up  half  the  charms  of  Bassano  in  a  brief 
chapter,  for  they  are  composed  of  very  many  small  things, 
unimportant  in  themselves,  but  when  found  all  together  a 
treasure.  Come  and  see  :  and  then  when  you  have  seen  and 
understood  Bassano,  take,  with  a  good  courage,  the  great  road 
that  runs  almost  due  south  from  Bassano  out  across  the  plain 
for  Cittadella  and  Padua. 

If  you  start  at  dawn  you  may  take  lunch  in  Cittadella,  for 
the  road  is  a  good  road,  though  a  little  monotonous,  yet  in 
spring  amid  the  corn  and  the  vines  it  has  much  to  recommend  it. 

Cittadella,  however,  has  little  to  offer  you  but  its  walls,  built 
by  the  Carraresi  of  Padua  in  1220  to  face  the  Trevisan  fortress 
of  Castelfranco,  founded  two  years  earlier.  Yet  for  all  its 
poverty  it  possesses  a  picture  of  some  note,  as  what  Italian 
town  does  not?  This  wonder,  a  Last  Supper,  by  Jacopo 
Bassano,  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Duomo.  But  Padua  called  me, 
and  was  far — twenty-five  miles  across  the  plain.  I  thought  of 
my  long  tramp  that  morning  from  Bassano,  I  thought  of  the  Inn 
I  knew  in  Padua,  I  thought  above  all  of  the  dust  and  length  of 
the  way.  At  three  o'clock  I  found  myself  in  the  station  of 
Cittadella  awaiting  the  train,  which,  not  too  late,  presently 
bore  me  through  a  great  green  garden  all  the  way  to  Padua ; 
and  there  I  came  without  longing  or  weariness  before  nightfall. 


XVIII 
PADUA 


MANY-DOMED  Padua,  as  I  like  to  remember  Shelley 
called  it,  stands  like  a  curious  great  casket  away  from 
the  Brenta  to  the  south  of  it,  still  largely  surrounded  by  its 
old  walls,  a  place  still  only  half  awakened  by  the  hurry  of  the 
modern  world.  All  sorts  of  things  are  to  be  found  in  Padua : 
frescoes,  for  instance,  such  as  exist  nowhere  else  in  all  the 
Veneto,  the  shrine  of  a  great  saint  such  as  in  this  country 
only  Venice  herself  can  match,  more  than  one  cool  and 
beautiful  church  beside,  a  ruined  amphitheatre  now  a  garden, 
two  noble  Piazze,  a  great  and  fine  Palazzo  Pubblico,  and  a 
university  among  the  oldest  in  Europe :  what  more  can 
anyone  ask  of  any  city  in  the  world  ? 

But  Padua  is  something  better  than  a  mere  subject  for 
sightseeing  :  she  is  a  treasure-house  which  contains  something 
more  than  pictures,  frescoes,  churches,  and  curiosities ;  she 
has  still  something  of  the  strangely  bright  and  sunlit  delight 
of  Pisa.  Here  as  there  the  great  church  is  set  apart  in  the 
quietest  corner  of  the  town,  though  we  miss  the  meadow  that 
the  Tuscan  city  has  spread  about  her  Duomo.  We  miss,  of 
course,  any  such  glory  as  the  matchless  group  of  buildings 
there,  and  we  miss  the  hills.  Yet  not  altogether,  after  all. 
For  if  Pisa  boasts  the  Monti  Pisani  which  form  so  noble  a 
background  to  that  white  city  in  the  marsh,  Padua  boasts  the 
Monti  Euganei,  not  less  lovely  though  somewhat  farther  away, 

and  in  this  has  little,  if  anything,  to  envy  Pisa.     But  it  is  the 

242 


PALAZZO    EZZELINO    BALBO,    PADUA 


PADUA  243 

air,  the  spirit  of  qufetness  and  of  well-being  common  to  both, 
the  suggestion  of  something  withdrawn,  that  brings  the  two 
cities  together  in  my  mind.  Each  is  on  a  main  line  of  railway, 
each  is  at  the  door  of  one  of  the  two  greater  pleasure  cities 
in  Italy,  each  is  but  an  anteroom  to  the  best  of  all,  and  is  too 
often  passed  by  with  scarce  a  disdainful  glance ;  yet  rightly 
understood  there  can  be  but  few  things  in  the  world  more 
lovely  than  Pisa,  there  can  be  few  places  in  the  world  more 
delightful  than  Padua.  It  is  true  they  have  both  seen  better 
days,  but  then  what  Italian  city  has  not  ?  But  they  remain 
cities  of  quiet  joy ;  and  since  Padua  will  be  the  first  to  be  spoilt, 
it  is  well  that  we  should  all  see  and  enjoy  her  while  we  may. 
This  also  the  two  cities  possess  in  common,  that  both  have 
had  a  various  and  eventful  history  ;  and  though  the  fate  of 
Padua  was  not  so  tragic  as  that  of  Pisa  it  was  like  it  in  this, 
that  it  entailed  the  loss  of  her  independence  and  brought 
her  into  the  power  of  the  great  city  at  whose  doors  she  stood. 
Flcrence  consumed  Pisa,  Venice  consumed  Padua  j  and  if 
Padua  was,  as  is .  not  to  be  denied,  the  happier  in  her  fate, 
she  owed  it  to  the  greatness  of  the  republic  into  whose  hands 
she  fell. 

But  Padua  had  an  already  ancient  story  when  Venice  at 
last  drew  her  within  her  domixiion.  Indeed,  her  history  was 
hoary  before  Venice  was.  As  the  legends  will  have  it,  Padua 
was  founded  by  Antenor  after  the  Fall  of  Troy  in  B.C.  1199 
or  1 184.  The  city  may  well  have  an  Euganean  origin,  but 
we  certainly  know  that  in  B.C.  302  she  was  fighting  against 
Cleomenes  of  Sparta,  that  the  rostri  of  his  galleys  adorned  her 
Temple  of  Juno,  and  that  she  fought  among  the  allies  of 
Rome  at  the  battle  of  Cannse.  In  b.c.  45  she  was  declared 
a  Roman  colony.  With  the  Empire  she  came  to  great 
splendour,  and  is  said  to  have  been  the  richest  of  all  the 
Italian  cities  and  the  most  populous  after  Rome  itself.  In 
the  time  of  Augustus  she  numbered  five  hundred  citizens  of 
the  Equestrian  order  and  boasted  splendid  theatres  and  mag- 
nificent baths.  She  fell,  as  all  this  part  of  the  Empire  fell, 
under  the    invasions    of   Alaric  and  Attila,   which    almost 


244  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

destroyed  her,  and  she  had  a  part,  and  that  no  small  one,  in 
the  foundation  of  Venice,  that  raft  which  was  constructed 
in  the  terror  of  shipwreck  to  save  what  could  be  saved.  Her 
fate,  however,  was  happier  than  that  of  Aquileia — more  for- 
tunate than  that  of  Altinum.  She  rose  again  from  her  ashes, 
and  in  the  time  of  Charlemagne  was  already  of  some  import- 
ance. During  the  whole  of  the  disastrous  ninth  century  she 
continued  to  endure,  though  filled  again  and  again  with  ruins. 
Her  true  renaissance  begins  with  the  twelfth  century,  when 
she  got  her  own  magistrates,  and  in  1164  before  any  other 
Italian  city  she  threw  off  the  iron  yoke  of  Barbarossa  and  pro- 
claimed herself  a  republic.  In  11 75  she  got  her  first  Podesta, 
Alberto  Osa  da  Milano.  This  period  of  liberty  was  quite 
spoiled  by  the  continual  wars  Padua  was  compelled  to  wage 
on  its  behalf  with  neighbouring  cities.  Her  most  bitter,  ter- 
rible, and  relentless  enemy  was,  as  we  might  expect,  that 
"grey,  wizened,  dwarfish  devil  Ecelin,"  of  whom  we  have 
heard  in  Bassano.  By  1236  he  was  master  of  Treviso,  Vicenza, 
and  Padua.  After  twenty  years  of  carnage  the  oppressed  rose 
against  this  appalling  criminal,  and  in  June,  1259,  he  was  slain. 
Then  Padua  for  a  time  had  peace ;  learning,  the  arts,  manu- 
facture flourished,  and  the  finest  things  still  left  in  Padua 
were  built  and  painted.  The  peace  ended  with  the  advent 
into  Italy  of  Henry  of  Luxembourg  in  131 1.  He  wished  to 
impose  an  imperial  vicar  upon  the  Paduans,  who  would  have 
none  of  him.  Therefore  Henry  stirred  up  Cane  della  Scala 
of  Verona  to  attack  them  and  the  city  of  Vicenza,  with  whom 
they  were  allied.  The  war  thus  begun  lasted  long  with  varying 
fortune,  nor  did  the  death  of  the  Emperor  end  it,  for  the 
cupidity  of  the  Scala  being  aroused  and  in  a  sense  legiti- 
mized, it  was  not  to  be  put  off  or  easily  assuaged.  Moreover, 
unhappy  Padua  in  this  crisis  found  herself  involved  in  the 
Guelf  and  Ghibelline  quarrel.  There  were  many  who  for 
their  own  ends  sided  with  the  Emperor  and  the  Scaligers. 
Among  these  was  the  Ghibelline  family  of  the  Carraresi,  who, 
at  once  seeing  or  hoping  that  something  might  be  gained, 
waged   suddenly  private   war   against   the  Alticlini   and  the 


PADUA  245 

Ronchi,  their  enemies,  within  the  city.  In  the  midst  of 
this  affair  Cane  descended  and  led  away  Marsilio  and  Jacopo 
da  Carrara  as  prisoners  to  Verona.  It  seems  that  there 
Jacopo  came  to  some  understanding  with  Cane,  for  in  13 18 
he  was  sent  back  to  the  city  as  Lord  of  Padua. 

It  was  just  then  that  Venice  came  upon  the  scene.  With 
Padua  in  the  hands  of  Jacopo  da  Carrara,  a  mere  nominee  of 
the  Scala,  she  saw  her  trade  route  of  the  Brenta  in  an  enemy's 
hands.  Moreover,  as  we  have  seen,  the  Scala  were  now 
supreme  not  merely  in  Verona  and  Padua,  but  in  Vicenza, 
Feltre,  Belluno,  and  Treviso.  Their  lordships  hemmed  in 
the  lagoons  and  cut  Venice  off  from  her  great  markets.  Nor 
did  Scala  hold  his  hand ;  he  saw  how  the  wealth  of  Venice 
might  be  made  to  pay  an  ever-increasing  tribute,  and  at  once 
imposed  duties  on  the  transport  of  Venetian  food  in  the  dis- 
tricts of  Treviso  and  Padua,  and  actually  built  a  fort  and  a  toll- 
house on  the  Po.  The  reply  of  Venice  was  to  cut  off  his 
supply  of  salt  j  but  it  was  not  enough.  War  followed,  and  as 
a  result  of  that  war  Scala  was  beaten,  and  as  soon  as  he  was 
beaten  his  protege,  the  House  of  Carrara,  proved  false  to  him. 
Marsilio  da  Carrara,  lately  his  prisoner  in  Verona,  whose 
brother  Jacopo  he  had  made  Lord  of  Padua,  when  sent  as 
his  ambassador  to  the  Venetians  betrayed  him,  came  to  secret 
terms  with  the  Doge,  undertook  to  place  Padua  in  the  hands 
of  Venice  on  condition  that  he  was  established  as  Lord.  As 
we  have  seen,  Scala  was  beaten  and  Padua  taken.  By  the 
treaty  of  1339  Treviso  and  Bassano  fell  to  Venice,  the  Car- 
raresi  were  established  in  Padua,  and  the  Scaligers  ceased  to 
be  a  danger  to  Venice. 

The  Brenta  and  the  Padovano  were  now  held  by  a  tributary 
of  Venice,  the  House  of  Carrara,  which  depended  for  its 
existence  on  the  protection  of  Venice ;  for  if  the  Scala  star  was 
setting,  the  Visconti  star,  a  far  greater  luminary,  was  rising, 
and  without  Venice  Padua  must  inevitably  have  become  a 
part  of  the  new  constellation  of  Milan.  There  followed  a 
perfect  example  of  what,  though  it  was  continually  happening 
and  we  have  hundreds   of  examples  of  it,   remains  an   in- 


246  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

soluble  mystery  in. the  political  history  of  the  Communes  of 
Italy. 

From  the  thirteenth  to  the  seventeenth  century  the  history 
of  diplomacy  in  Italy  is  merely  a  long  story  of  the  most  bare- 
faced and  childish  lying,  treason,  and  disloyalty  that  is  to  be 
found  in  the  history  of  man.  Diplomacy  as  then  understood 
seems  to  have  consisted  merely  in  telling  falsehoods  that  no 
one,  it  might  seem,  could  possibly  have  believed  if  he  had  not 
himself  been  so  incorrigible  a  liar  as  to  have  deprived  him- 
self of  any  sense  of  difference  between  falsehood  and  truth. 
Here  were  these  Carraresi,  Jacopo  and  Marsilio.  They  had, 
to  begin  with,  made  the  most  barefaced  attempt  to  establish 
a  tyranny  in  Padua.  They  had  failed.  Carried  off  as  prisoners 
to  Verona,  one  of  them,  Jacopo,  had  so  far  imposed  upon 
Cane  della  Scala  as  to  obtain  from  him  the  Lordship  of  Padua 
under  his  suzerainty.  At  the  first  opportunity  he  proved  false 
to  his  trust  j  yet  the  Scala  chose  his  brother  Marsilio  as  their 
ambassador  to  Venice,  ]and,  as  might  have  been  expected,  with 
the  inevitable  result  that  he  proved  a  traitor.  With  this  history 
in  their  hands  the  Venetians  must  have  been  convinced,  one 
might  suppose,  that  there  was  nothing  but  falsehood  and 
treason  to  be  got  from  the  House  of  Carrara.  Yet  they 
established  them  in  Padua.  It  is  incredible  and  inexplic- 
able; but  similar  things  occur  everywhere  on  every  page  of 
the  history  of  the  time. 

In  the  year  1339,  then,  we  have  Marsilio  da  Carrara  estab- 
lished in  Padua  as  tributary  Lord  by  Venice.  The  result  was 
certain,  nor  have  we  long  to  wait  for  it.  Wherever  and  when- 
ever possible  the  Carraresi  sided  against  the  Republic.  For 
instance,  the  disasters  of  the  Genoese  sea  war  at  Sapienza 
and  the  conspiracy  of  Marino  Faliero  weakened  the  Republic, 
so  that  the  Hungarians  revived  their  claims  to  Dalmatia ;  the 
Carrara  refused  to  ally  themselves  with  Venice,  they  preferred 
to  remain  neutral  in  a  campaign  which  did  not  directly  con- 
cern them j  but  as  a  fact  they  did  all  they  could  to  help  the 
Hungarians  in  their  siege  of  Treviso.  Venice  seems  to  have 
been  surprised  at  this.     It  is  incredible.     The  peace  of  Zara 


PADUA  247 

contained  a  provision  that  the  Carrara  were  not  to  be  inter- 
fered with  by  Venice.  This,  if  nothing  else  could,  seems 
finally  to  have  aroused  the  disgust,  anger,  and  suspicion  of 
the  Republic.  It  was  time.  Before  long  Carrara  was  known 
to  be  building  forts  along  the  Brenta  as  far  as  Oriago.  The 
times  were  unfavourable,  but  Venice  could  not  stomach  this. 
She  threatened  war  and  made  it,  when  the  true  relations  of 
things  at  once  became  clear.  Carrara  was  supported  by  the 
King  of  Hungary.  Here,  however,  Venice  had  a  stroke  of 
luck.  The  king's  nephew  fell  into  her  hands,  and  as  the  price 
of  his  freedom — perhaps  of  his  life — the  king  withdrew  and 
left  Carrara  to  make  what  peace  he  could.  This  he  accom- 
plished in  1373;  and  though  it  was  entirely  favourable  to 
Venice,  it  was  too  nice  to  Carrara,  for  it  left  him  more  than 
his  life,  it  left  him  his  Lordship ;  yet  he  was  condemned  to 
pay  a  large  indemnity  and  to  destroy  his  forts  on  the  Brenta 
and  to  cede  Feltre  to  Venice  as  security  for  good  conduct. 
In  all  this  Venice  acted  too  leniently.  She  should  have  extir- 
pated the  Carraresi  breed  and  taken  Padua  into  her  own 
hands.  The  final  struggle  with  Genoa  proved  this.  No 
sooner  was  the  war  of  Chioggia  seen  to  be  going  against 
Venice  than  Carrara  joined  the  Genoese.  He  blockaded 
the  lagoons  from  the  mainland,  tried  to  starve  Venice  out, 
urged  Pietro  Doria  to  the  great  attack  he  refused  which 
would  have  carried  the  city,  fed  the  Genoese  and  supported 
them  in  Chioggia  in  the  final  stage  of  the  war,  and  all 
through  the  campaign  besieged  Treviso. 

At  last  the  eyes  of  Venice  were  open.  When  Genoa  was 
broken  and  she  was  alone  upon  the  sea  she  remembered  Car- 
rara and  bethought  her  how  she  might  crush  him.  Carrara 
also  saw  that  he  must  win  now  or  never.  In  order  to  save 
Treviso  and  Feltre  from  him  Venice  had  given  them  to  the 
Duke  of  Austria.  Carrara  bought  them  from  him.  Bassano 
came  into  his  hands.  What  Scala  had  failed  to  do  he  now 
thought  to  attempt.  But  he  had  reckoned  without  Visconti. 
Carrara  tried  first  to  deal  with  him,  but  he  had  met  a  greater 
rascal  than  himself.   They  divided  the  Scala  dominion  between 


248  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

them.  To  Visconti  went  Verona,  to  Carrara  Vicenza.  Visconti 
took  them  both  by  force.  Immediately  both  Carrara  and  Vis- 
conti turned  to  Venice  for  aid  to  extirpate  each  the  other. 
Carrara  pointed  to  the  obvious  danger  of  so  powerful  a  neigh- 
bour, Visconti  pointed  to  the  equally  obvious  record  of  Carrara. 
He  offered  Treviso,  Feltre,  and  Ceneda  to  the  Republic. 
Venice  heard  him  and  agreed.  Those  cities  passed  into  her 
hands,  Visconti  took  and  held  Verona,  Vicenza,  and  Padua. 

But  Visconti  was  altogether  too  dangerous  and  strong  for 
Venice  to  contemplate  his  dominion  in  the  Veneto  as  per- 
manent. She  at  once  seized  the  opportunity  of  his  attack  on 
Bologna  to  join  Florence  against  him,  and  in  this  crisis 
restored  the  Carraresi  to  Padua.  What  would  have  been  the 
issue  of  such  a  vast  conflict  one  cannot  tell,  for  just  as  it  was 
really  to  be  decided  in  1402  Visconti  died,  and  his  great 
dominion  fell  swiftly  to  pieces. 

In  this  breathing  space  it  began  to  dawn  on  Venice  that 
now  Visconti  was  removed  she  had  no  longer  any  possible 
need  for  Carrara.  And  this  was  impressed  upon  her  by  his 
insolent  claim  to  Vicenza,  which  Visconti's  widow  held  stoutly, 
appealing  to  Venice  for  aid.  The  Republic  demanded  Bassano, 
Vicenza,  and  Verona  from  her.  She  gave  them  :  what  else 
could  she  do  ? 

Venice  then  ordered  the  Carraresi  to  hold  their  attack. 
There  were  two  of  them  as  usual  in  the  affair,  most  truly  their 
fathers'  sons,  Francesco  and  Jacopo.  They  refused,  knowing 
their  hour  was  struck.  Francesco  the  Republic  besieged  in 
Padua,  Jacopo  in  Verona.  After  fierce  fighting  both  cities  fell. 
The  two  Carraresi  were  brought  to  Venice,  where  the  mob, 
with  a  true  instinct,  howled  for  their  blood.  The  Govern- 
ment, it  is  said,  inclined  to  spare  them.  A  vast  plot,  however, 
was  early  and  conveniently  discovered,  in  which  both  were 
said  to  be  involved,  and  the  Council  of  Ten  had  them  both 
strangled  in  prison  in  January,  1405. 

Thus  was  the  dominion  of  Venice  established,  not  in  Padua 
alone,  nor  only  in  Treviso  and  Bassano,  but  through  the  whole 
of  that  great  province  which  bore  her  name  from  the  Adige  to 


PADUA  249 

the  Alps,  the  Tagliamento  and  the  sea.  And  this  dominion 
she  was  to  hold,  to  govern  wisely  and  well  till  her  fall.  She 
had  become  not  merely  mistress  of  the  seas,  but  one  of  the 
greatest  land  powers  in  the  peninsula,  and  by  far  the  most 
successful  State  that  even  till  our  day  has  ever  existed  there 
since  the  fall  of  the  Empire. 


II 

Such  is  the  history  of  Padua  in  its  relation  to  the  Veneto. 
Under  Venetian  rule  it  quickly  grew  and  flourished.  Its 
University,  already  founded,  became  famous  throughout 
Europe,  and  the  fame  of  the  city  in  Christendom  had  long  since 
been  established  by  the  shrine  of  S.  Anthony.  It  is  always 
as  the  University  town  or  as  the  city  of  S.  Anthony  we  come 
upon  Padua  in  the  memoirs  of  our  fathers.  There  is  Evelyn, 
for  instance:  "On  the  .  .  .  June,"  he  writes,  "we  went  to 
Padua  to  the  Faire  of  their  S.  Anthony,  in  company  of  divers 
passengers.  The  first  terra  firma  we  landed  at  [he  came 
from  Venice]  was  Fusina,  being  only  an  inn,  where  we 
changed  our  barge  and  were  drawne  up  by  horses  thro' 
the  river  Brenta,  a  straight  chanell  as  even  as  a  line  for 
20  miles,  the  country  on  both  sides  deliciously  adorned 
with  country  villas  and  gentlemen's  retirements,  gardens 
planted  with  oranges,  figs,  and  other  fruit  belonging  to  ye 
Venetians." 

That  is  still  a  fine  way  to  come  to  Padua  from  Venice,  only 
now  the  villas  are  deserted  and  ruinous  and  the  way  as 
melancholy  though  as  beautiful  as  any  in  the  world. 

Evelyn  also  speaks  of  the  University :  "  Ye  scholes  of  this 
flourishing  and  ancient  university,"  where  especially  "  ye 
studie  of  physic  and  anatomie"  was  undertaken.  "They 
are  fairly  built  in  quadrangle  with  cloysters  beneath  and 
above  with  columns.  Over  the  greate  gate  are  the  armes 
of  ye  Venetian  State  and  under  ye  lion  of  S.  Marc.  .  .  . 
About  ye  court  walls  are  carv'd  in  stone  and  painted  the 
blazons  of  the  Consuls  of  all  the  nations  that  from  time  to 


250  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

time  have  had  that  charge  and  honour  in  the  universitie, 
which  at  my  being  there  was  my  worthy  friend  Dr.  Rogers, 
who  here  took  his  degree." 

That  was  in  1645.  Thirty  years  before,  another  English- 
man, more  famous  in  his  day  than  Mr.  Evelyn,  had  been 
educated  at  Padua.  This  was  Mr.  Nicholas  Ferrar,  who 
afterwards  founded  a  "  Protestant  Nunnery  "  at  Little  Gidding 
and  who  is  so  great  a  figure  in  Shorthouse's  "  John  Inglesant." 
There  he  studied  medicine,  geometry,  philosophy,  and  rhetoric. 
There  was  an  anatomical  theatre  and  a  "  garden  of  simples 
rarely  furnished  with  plants,"  to  which  was  attached  a  school 
of  pharmacy,  which  had  been  in  existence  in  16 15  for  more 
than  sixty  years.  There  were  also  two  hospitals  for  the  study 
of  clinical  medicine,  furnished  with  the  "  greatest  helps  and 
most  skilful  physicians,"  as  well  as  subjects  to  exercise  upon. 
All  of  which  Evelyn  saw  and  described. 

Such  was  Padua  of  old,  the  city  of  S.  Anthony  and  of  a 
great  University,  where,  by  the  way,  Tasso  was  a  student. 
But  though  for  what  is  left  of  Catholic  Europe — and  that  is 
little  enough,  alas  ! — Padua  remains  the  city  of  S.  Anthony, 
who  comes  to  her  to-day  to  be  taught  "  medicine,  geometry, 
philosophy,  and  rhetoric  "  ? 

It  is  to  no  University,  but  to  a  tiny  chapel  in  a  garden  of 
mulberries  that  we  make  our  way  from  the  station  or  from  the 
Inn.  It  stands  in  the  old  Roman  Arena,  whose  shape  can  still 
be  traced  in  the  oval  garden ;  and  Giotto  has  painted  there, 
it  is  said  while  Dante  was  in  Padua,1  the  story  of  Madonna 
and  the  story  of  Our  Lord,  It  seems  that  in  130 1  a  certain 
Enrico  Scrovegno,  a  rich  citizen  of  Padua,  had  been  raised  to 
the  rank  of  a  noble  by  the  Republic  of  Venice.2  He  devoted 
a  part  of  the  wealth  he  had  inherited  from  his  father,  Rinaldo 
Scrovegno,  whom  Dante  places  in  the  Inferno  on  account 
of  his  usury  and  avarice,3  to  the  building  of  a  chapel,  com- 

1  Benvenuto  da  Imola  in  Muratori,  "  Antiq.  Ital.,"  i,  p.  1186. 

2  Cf.  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  "  History  of  Painting  in  Italy  "  (ed. 
Hutton,  1909),  vol.  i,  p.  228. 

3  "  Inferno,"  xvii.  v,  64. 


PADUA  251 

pleted  in  1303  and  dedicated  to  S.  Maria  Annunziata.  Nor 
did  he  stop  here,  for  he  employed  the  first  painter  in  Italy  to 
cover  the  chapel  with  frescoes,  if  Benvenuto  da  Imola  is  to  be 
believed,  in  the  year  1306.  Indeed,  it  has  been  suggested, 
and  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  seem  inclined  to  accept  the  state- 
ment, that  Giotto  not  only  decorated  but  built  the  chapel. 
More  modern  opinion,  however,  is  more  doubtful,  and  is  even 
confused  as  to  the  position  of  Giotto's  undoubted  frescoes 
here  in  the  story  of  his  art.  Thus  it  is  not  absolutely  certain 
whether  Giotto  painted  at  Assisi  in  the  Lower  Church  before 
or  after  working  at  Padua.  Mr.  Berenson,  indeed,  with  whom 
more  and  more  I  find  myself  in  agreement,  denies  to  Giotto 
all  the  work  usually  given  him  in  the  Lower  Church  at  Assisi, 
and  assigns  to  him  in  part  three  frescoes  in  the  Chapel  of 
S.  Mary  Magdalen  there,  adding  that  they  were  painted 
"before  1323,"  but  presumably  after  the  work  here  in  Padua. 
Messrs.  Douglas  and  Strong,  on  the  other  hand,  accept  the 
frescoes  usually  given  to  Giotto  in  the  Lower  Church  at  Assisi 
and  think  that  they  are  later  than  these  in  the  Arena  Chapel. 
Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  hold  that  Giotto's  work  in  Padua  is 
later  than  his  work  in  the  Lower  Church  at  Assisi.  For  my 
own  part  I  think  that  Giotto  first  worked  in  Rome,  then  in  the 
Florence  Bargello,  then  in  the  Upper  Church  at  Assisi,  then 
in  Padua,  and  then  in  the  S.  Mary  Magdalen  Chapel  in  the 
Lower  Church  at  Assisi.  I  should  be  inclined  to  accept 
Benvenuto  da  Imola's  statement,  and  to  find  Giotto  in  Padua 
about  1306,  when  Dante  was  lodging  in  the  Contrada  di 
S.   Lorenzo. 

But  whatever  the  date  of  these  frescoes,  this  at  least  is 
certain,  that  the  frescoes  of  the  Arena  Chapel,  with  the 
exception,  perhaps,  of  those  in  the  Chapel  of  S.  Mary 
Magdalen  in  the  Lower  Church  at  Assisi,  are  the  best 
preserved  of  all  the  work  Giotto  has  left  us. 

Before  considering  them  in  any  detail,  let  us  glance  at  the 
chapel  they  glorify.  Built  in  the  form  of  a  single-vaulted 
aisle,  with  the  choir  merely  separated  from  the  nave  by  an 
arch,  the  chapel  is  lighted  by  six  windows  in  the  south  wall. 


252  VENICE   AND   VENETIA 

There  is  thus  a  very  large  space  in  a  building  really  small,  for 
the  fresco  painter,  and  Giotto  took  every  advantage  of  this. 
He  arranged  his  subjects  according  to  the  tradition  of  his 
time,  already  some  centuries  old,  but  with  an  artistic  sense 
of  their  value  in  relation  to  each  other  that  was  all  his  own. 
Over  the  entrance  he  placed  the  Last  Judgment.  Opposite 
this,  on  the  choir  arch,  he  painted  Our  Lord  in  Glory  guarded 
by  angels,  and  beneath,  the  Annunciation.  On  the  side  walls 
between  this  arch  and  the  entrance  wall  he  painted  in  a  triple 
course  thirty-eight  scenes  of  the  life  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and 
of  Our  Lord.  "  These  subjects,"  say  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle, 
"were  enclosed  in  a  painted  ornament  of  a  beautiful  kind, 
interrupted  at  intervals  by  little  frames  of  varied  forms  con- 
taining subjects  from  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  All 
rested  on  a  painted  marble  cornice,  supported  on  brackets 
and  pilasters,  in  the  intervals  of  which  were  fourteen  figures 
in  dead  colour  representing  the  Virtues  and  the  Vices.  As 
in  the  Chapel  of  the  Podesta,  so  at  the  Arena,  the  wagon 
roof  was  spanned  by  two  feigned  arches.  The  field  of  the 
vault  was  blue  and  starred,  adorned  in  the  centre  with 
medallions  of  the  Saviour  and  the  Virgin  and  on  the  sides 
with  eight  medallions  of  prophets.  By  this  division  of  subject 
and  of  ornamentation,  an  admirable  harmony  was  created. 
The  feigned  cornice,  with  its  feigned  bas-reliefs,  illustrates 
completely  the  ability  with  which  Giotto  combined  archi- 
tecture with  sculpture  and  painting;  whilst  in  the  style  of 
the  ornaments  themselves  the  most  exquisite  taste  and  a 
due  subordination  of  parts  were  combined." 

On  entering  the  Arena  Chapel  the  traveller  sees  first, 
as  Giotto  intended,  the  Saviour  of  the  world  in  glory  among 
His  angels.  He  finds  this  great  and  majestic  splendour, 
and,  bowing  his  head,  dropping  his  eyes,  he  sees  beneath 
the  Annunciation,  the  message  from  Heaven  to  earth,  which 
brought  God  down  into  the  world  in  our  likeness.  There 
follow,  as  I  have  said,  in  three  courses  on  either  side,  the 
preparation  for  that  message  in  the  life  of  the  Virgin,  the 
result  of  it  in  the  life  of  Christ.     But  what  has  not  been  so 


PADUA  253 

generally  noticed  is  the  subtle  and  beautiful  manner  in  which 
Giotto  has  mystically  caused  the  one  to  correspond  as  it  were 
with  the  other.  Is  it  here  we  may  see  Dante's  hand  ?  For 
instance,  the  first  fresco  on  one  side  of  the  Annunciation  is 
the  Salutation,  in  which  Elizabeth  greets  Our  Lady ;  opposite 
to  it  the  first  fresco  on  the  other  side  is  the  Salutation  of 
Judas  in  which  he  betrayed  Our  Lord.  Such  is  the  wonder- 
ful method  that  underlies  the  decoration  of  the  chapel,  an 
arrangement  emphasized  by  the  virtues  and  vices  which  face 
one  another  on  the  marble  skirting.  Now  the  practice  of  the 
virtues  leads  us  towards  Paradise.  Therefore  the  first  of  the 
virtues,  which  is  Hope,  is  turned  towards  that  part  of  the 
great  fresco  of  the  Last  Judgment  in  which  we  may  see 
Paradise.  The  pursuit  of  vice  leads  to  Damnation,  therefore 
the  last  of  the  vices,  Despair,  is  drawn  by  a  devil  towards  the 
Inferno. 

It  might  seem  superfluous  to  name  the  thirty-eight  frescoes 
with  which  Giotto  has  illuminated  this  chapel,  for  there  can 
be  no  one  so  ignorant  of  the  Christian  Legend  as  not  to 
recognize  them  at  a  glance.  It  will  be  enough  to  say  that 
they  begin  on  the  topmost  course  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
Christ  in  glory,  and  continue  on  this  course  quite  round  the 
chapel,  and  so  with  the  second  and  third  courses.  Nowhere 
in  Christendom  is  there  a  series  of  frescoes  comparable  with 
this  for  beauty  and  freshness  of  colour,  for  vitality  of  form  and 
gesture,  combined  with  a  superb  decorative  loveliness.  We 
may  prefer  the  Raising  of  Lazarus  in  S.  Mary  Magdalen's 
Chapel  in  the  Lower  Church  at  Assisi  to  that  we  see  here  ; 
we  may  prefer  the  Noli  me  Tangere  there  to  this  in  Padua; 
we  may  even  say  with  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  that  "  though 
purely  and  dramatically  conceived  and  executed  the  Cruci- 
fixion at  Padua  is  less  successfully  presented  than  that  of  the 
Lower  Church  of  Assisi,"  but  where  in  Assisi  even,  where  in 
Florence,  where  anywhere  in  Italy  are  we  to  look  for  a  work  so 
complete,  so  majestic,  and  so  lovely  as  this  frescoed  chapel  in 
Padua  ?  The  only  thing  left  to  us  that  may  be  compared  to  it 
is  the  Upper  Church  at  Assisi,  which,  so  far  as  it  is  not   a 


254  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

ruin,  we  owe  to  the  same  painter,  Giotto — but  Giotto  in  his 
earlier  years. 

Yet  the  splendour  of  Giotto's  work  here  must  not  blind  us 
to  the  other  treasures  of  the  church.  The  frescoes  in  the 
choir  of  the  Death,  Assumption,  and  Coronation  of  the 
Virgin  are  indeed  of  no  account,  but  here  is  a  fine  monument 
to  the  founder  of  the  church,  and  in  the  little  sacristy  close  by 
is  a  splendid  half-figure  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  by 
Giovanni  Pisano,  one  of  his  best  works.  To  the  same 
sculptor  may  be  assigned  the  statue  of  Scrovegno.  Here,  too, 
is  a  fine  Crucifix,  perhaps  from  Giotto's  hand,  full  of  the 
majesty  and  dignity  we  seem  to  miss  in  the  fresco  in  the 
chapel. 

It  is  always  with  regret  one  leaves  the  Chapel  of  the  Arena, 
for  nothing  to  compare  with  it  is  to  be  found  in  Padua,  or, 
indeed,  in  all  Northern  Italy.  Yet  for  our  consolation  we 
may  discover,  and  that  close  by,  a  very  interesting  if  not 
unique  convent  of  Augustinians,  now  spoiled  and  ruined,  but, 
in  spite  of  the  Government,  containing  still  many  precious 
and  beautiful  things.  It  is  true  that  to-day  the  convent  is 
given  up  to  the  use  of  the  Italian  army ;  that  is  not  as  sur- 
prising as  it  is  shameful.  Italy  has  accustomed  us  to  this  sort 
of  outrage,  and  some  have  grown  so  used  to  it  as  to  consider 
it  almost  virtuous.  So  that  if  you  or  I  exclaim  at  it  and  make 
accusation  we  are  to  be  blamed  as  rude  and  vulgar  persons 
unused  to  the  ways  of  the  world !  Yet  we  will  make  our 
accusation  all  the  same,  and  one  day  be  sure  it  will  have  to  be 
answered. 

The  Augustinians,  or  Austin  Friars,  to  whom  the  church 
and  convent  belonged,  although  now  called  Mendicants,  are 
really  an  Order  of  hermits,  as  their  true  Italian  name, 
degli  Eremitani,  proves.  They  derive  their  origin  from 
S.  Augustine,  in  Tagaste,  in  the  year  388,  when  that  great 
Doctor  brought  some  persons  into  his  own  house  and  gave 
them  a  Rule,  which  he  kept  with  them.  In  1256,  about  the 
time  that  we  first  hear  of  them  in  Padua,  Pope  Alexander  IV 


PADUA  255 

collected  together  under  this  Rule  all  the  hermits  in  Europe, 
and  in  1567  Pius  V  congregated  them  with  the  Mendicant 
Friars.  Their  three  great  saints  are  S.  Augustine,  S.  Nicholas 
of  Tolentino,  and  S.  Thomas  of  Villanova.  Among  their 
illustri  is  Pope  Eugenius  IV. 

The  Church  of  the  Eremitani  in  Padua  dates  from  the 
thirteenth  century,  but  it  has  been  much  restored,  notably  so 
late  as  1880.  It  is  a  long  and  spacious  building  with  a 
painted  roof  of  wood,  and  it  contains  several  precious  works 
of  art. 

To  begin  with,  over  the  main  door  is  a  fine  Giottesque 
Crucifix,  attributed,  however,  to  Guariento,  an  early  painter 
of  this  city,  who  was  of  so  great  importance  in  his  day  that  he 
was  chosen  first  to  adorn  the  Hall  of  Great  Council  in  Venice 
in  1365  with  a  Paradise.  He  seems  to  have  executed  several 
works  in  this  church,  some  allegories  of  the  planets,  and  in  the 
choir  small  scenes  in  monochrome  of  such  subjects  as  Christ 
Crowned  with  Thorns,  the  Via  Crucis,  the  Ecce  Homo,  and 
the  Resurrection.  A  large  Crucifixion  is  to  be  found  above 
these,  also  from  his  hand.  He  seems  to  have  been  very  little 
if  at  all  influenced  by  Giotto. 

Close  by  the  entrance  of  the  church  are  two  painted  altars 
of  terra-cotta  by  Giovanni  Minello,  that  to  the  right  with  a 
sixteenth-century  fresco.  Near  to  these  are  the  fine  late 
Gothic  tombs  of  Ubertino  da  Carrara  (1 338-1 345)  and 
Jacopo  da  Carrara  (1 345-1 350),  by  Andreolo  dei  Santi,  of 
Venice,  from  the  church,  now  demolished,  of  S.  Agostino. 

But  when  all  is  said,  the  great  treasure  of  the  church 
remains  the  frescoes  of  Mantegna,  in  the  Cappella  di  SS. 
Jacopo  and  Cristoforo.  Andrea  Mantegna,  the  greatest  of 
the  Paduan  painters,  whose  genius  influenced  almost  every 
school  of  art  in  Italy,  was  the  son  of  a  certain  Biagio,  "a 
respectable  citizen  of  Padua,"  and  was  born  at  Vicenza  in 
143 1.  He  was  adopted  as  son  by  Squarcione,  the  founder  of 
the  later  Paduan  school,  in  1441,  and  married  Nicolosa,  the 
daughter  of  Jacopo  Bellini,  of  Venice.  This  great  man  may 
have  been  influenced  to  some  extent  by  his  father-in-law,  as 


256  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

he  certainly  was  by  the  work  of  Donatello  and  of  Paolo 
Uccello,  but  he  is  among  the  most  original  masters  who  ever 
lived,  combining  a  strong  realism  with  a  love  of  antiquity,  and 
a  profound  feeling  for  decoration  with  an  extraordinary  power 
over  the  expression  of  life.  He  is  said  to  have  painted  a 
Madonna  and  Child  for  the  High  Altar  of  some  church  in 
Padua  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  but  the  earliest  work  of  his 
that  remains  to  us  is  a  lunette  dated  1452  in  the  Santo  here. 
The  most  important  and  beautiful  works  of  his  youth,  however, 
are  the  frescoes  he  painted  in  the  chapel  of  SS.  Jacopo  and 
Cristoforo  in  the  Eremitani. 

This  chapel  is  painted  in  fresco  by  more  than  one  hand. 
The  Four  Evangelists  on  the  ceiling  are  doubtless  the  earliest 
as  they  are  the  feeblest  part  of  the  work  ;  like  the  four  upper 
sections  of  the  right  wall,  they  are  the  work  of  some  unknown 
and  feeble  scholars  of  Squarcione's  school.  The  work  on  the 
walls  and  vaultings  of  the  recesses  of  the  choir  are  also  by  an 
inferior  hand  to  Mantegna's,  though  they  are  able  enough, 
probably  by  Niccolb  Pizzolo,  a  Paduan  painter  who  died  when 
still  young.  The  lower  pictures  on  the  right  wall  and  all  the 
work  on  the  left  are  by  Mantegna,  and  it  is  to  these  frescoes 
we  shall  now  confine  ourselves. 

The  frescoes  on  the  left  wall  are  concerned  with  the  life  of 
S.  James  from  his  call  by  Our  Lord  to  his  martyrdom.  They 
were  painted  between  1453  and  1459,  and  the  upper  scenes 
are  the  earlier.  The  execution  and  burial  of  S.  Christopher, 
the  lowest  pictures  on  the  right  wall,  are  somewhat  later  work, 
but  their  sad  condition  does  not  allow  us  fully  to  enjoy  them. 
It  is  in  the  pictures  relating  to  S.  James  that  we  may  best  see 
the  range  and  quality  of  Mantegna's  art,  his  realistic  simplicity, 
his  mastery  of  action,  his  dignity  of  composition,  and  the 
monumental  character  of  his  figures,  which  might,  indeed,  all 
be  portraits.  Nor  is  it  only  in  his  figures — his  children  are 
delicious — that  he  shows  himself  to  be  the  great  master  he  is. 
In  his  treatment  of  architecture  and  ornament  he  shows  him- 
self to  have  the  finest  knowledge  of  antiquity,  and  as 
a  whole  these  works,  so  full  of  life,  of  learning,  and  of  the 


*  *     >  •  9      »       " 

•  •    •   •  »     >  ! » 


MARTYRDOM   OF   S.    CRISTOFORO 

ANDREA   MANTEGNA 
(  Eremitani,  Padua) 


PADUA  257 

mastery  of  expression,  are  equally  splendid  as  decoration. 
They  fill  the  chapel  with  the  spaciousness  of  the  sky,  with  the 
fine  proportions  of  great  palaces,  the  splendour  of  great  arches, 
and  yet  not  for  a  moment  do  we  wish  a  single  figure,  a  single 
building,  away  or  different.  And  the  finish  of  these  works 
remains  as  splendid  as  their  conception.  Yet  we  do  not  see 
them  in  anything  of  their  freshness,  but  removed  from  the 
walls  and  transferred  to  canvas. 

Leaving  the  Eremitani  by  the  Via  Cittadella,  which  brings 
us  into  the  Via  Garibaldi,  we  turn  back  to  the  right,  and, 
following  the  tram  lines  across  the  Ponte  Molino,  come  into 
the  Piazza  Petrarca.  Here  is  the  church  and  convent  of  the 
Carmine. 

Petrarch,  who,  as  we  shall  see,  died  among  the  Euganean 
hills  at  Arqua,  spent  much  time  in  Padua.  It  was  here 
Boccaccio  found  him  in  1349  when  he  came  on  behalf  of  the 
Florentine  Republic  to  offer  the  poet  a  chair  in  the  new 
University.  It  was  to  this  visit  that  Boccaccio  alluded  in  a 
letter  written  to  Petrarch  from  Ravenna  in  July,  1353.  He 
there  reminds  his  "  best  master  "  of  his  visit.  "  I  think,"  he 
writes,  "  that  you  have  not  forgotten  how,  when  less  than  three 
years  ago  I  came  to  you  in  Padua,  the  ambassador  of  our 
Senate,  my  commission  fulfilled,  I  remained  with  you  for  some 
days,  and  how  that  those  days  were  all  passed  in  the  same 
way  :  you  gave  yourself  to  sacred  studies,  and  I,  desiring  your 
compositions,  copied  them.  When  the  day  waned  to  sunset 
we  left  work  and  went  into  your  garden,  already  filled  by 
spring  with  flowers  and  leaves.  .  .  .  Now  sitting,  now  talking, 
we  passed  what  remained  of  the  day  in  placid  and  delightful 
idleness,  even  till  night."  It  is  pleasant  to  think  of  these  two 
poets  passing  up  and  down  the  Padua  streets,  talking  of 
Dante,  as  one  may  feel  sure  Boccaccio  did  not  fail  to  do, 
perhaps  insisting  on  visiting  his  lodging  in  the  Contrada  S. 
Lorenzo,  while  Petrarch  wondered  why. 

The  great  church  of  the  Carmine,  which  faces  this  piazza, 
was  first  built  with  its  monastery  in  1202.  In  1300  it  was 
rebuilt,  and  after  earthquakes  in  1470,  1503,  and  1695  was 


258  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

very  considerably  restored.  It  contains  nothing  of  much 
interest.  In  the  Scuola  attached  to  it,  entered  from  the 
cloister,  however,  there  are  several  damaged  frescoes  of  the 
sixteenth  century  from  the  hands  of  Titian,  Girolamo  da  S. 
Croce,  Domenico  Campagnola,  and  Palma  Vecchio.  The 
fresco  by  Titian  is  a  genuine  work  by  the  master,  painted  in 
151 1,  representing  the  meeting  of  Joachim  and  Anna  at  the 
Beautiful  Gate  of  the  Temple.  The  landscape  is  still  very 
fine,  and  the  whole  work  is  thoroughly  Giorgionesque. 

Returning  into  the  city  by  the  Ponte  Molino,  we  notice  a 
tower  which  Ecelino  is  said  to  have  built  in  1250,  and  which 
commemorates  his  tyranny  in  the  city.  Passing  thence  straight 
on  by  the  Via  Dante,  we  presently  come  to  the  Loggia  del 
Consiglio,  a  fine  Early  Renaissance  building,  and  turning  there 
to  the  left  into  the  Piazza  Unita  d'  Italia,  come  a  little  further 
on  into  the  Piazze  dei  Frutti  and  delle  Erbe,  where  stand 
the  sixteenth-century  Palazzo  del  Municipio  and  the  great 
Salone  or  Juris  Basilica^  built  in  11 72-1 2 19,  the  logge  being 
added  in  1306. 

This  great  hall  is  well  worth  a  visit,  for  it  is  273  feet  long, 
90  feet  broad,  and  95  feet  high.  Among  other  things,  it 
contains  the  wooden  model  of  Donatello's  horse  for  the 
Gattamelata  statue  by  S.  Antonio.  At  the  end  of  the  Piazza 
behind  the  Municipio  is  the  University. 

Returning  to  the  Via  Dante,  we  follow  it  into  the  Piazza  del 
Duomo,  built  by  Andrea  della  Valle  in  1551.  It  is  an 
unfinished  Late  Renaissance  building,  and  contains  nothing 
of  interest.  In  the  Baptistery  hard  by,  a  fine  building  of  the 
twelfth  century,  are  some  fourteenth-century  frescoes  attri- 
buted to  Giusto  Padovano. 

From  the  Duomo  we  return  again  through  the  Piazza  delle 
Erbe  till  we  come  to  the  Via  S.  Francesco,  out  of  which  we 
turn  almost  at  once  on  the  right  into  the  Via  del  Santo,  which 
brings  us  straight  into  the  Piazza  del  Santo  before  the  great 
many-domed  temple  that  has  risen  over  the  shrine  of 
S.  Antonio. 

Before   the   church  stands  one  of  the  greatest  equestrian 


PADUA  259 

statues  in  the  world,  Donatello's  Gattamelata.  It  is  a  strange 
position  to  have  selected  for  the  monument  of  a  great  captain, 
this  on  the  threshold  of  the  shrine  of  a  great  saint.  For 
Erasmo  da  Narni  General  Gattamelata  was  till  his  death  in 
1443  a  man  of  war,  a  condottiere  in  the  service  of  the  Vene- 
tians, who  granted  his  family  this  site  in  Padua  for  the 
monument  they  wished  to  erect.  And  this  equestrian  statue 
which  Donatello  made  was  what  they  chose.  Nothing  more 
noble  could  be  conceived,  and  Donatello's  task  was  the 
more  honourable  on  account  of  its  difficulty.  No  equestrian 
statue  had  been  made  in  bronze  in  Italy  since  the  Empire. 
He  had  no  model  save  the  Marcus  Aurelius  at  Rome  and 
Nero's  bronze  horses  in  Venice.  For  about  twenty  years  he 
laboured  at  it,  with  the  result  we  see — a  result  which  is  beyond 
criticism,  which  we  can  only  love  and  admire.  The  tombs 
of  the  great  soldier  and  his  son  we  shall  find  in  the  church. 
But  what  is  this  church,  named,  it  might  seem,  so  arrogantly 
II  Santo  ?  To  answer  that  question  we  must  first  ask  who  II 
Santo  was.  He  was  S.  Antony  of  Padua.  But  that  takes  us 
little  further,  for  the  barest  inquiry  shows  us  that  S.  Antony 
was  born  at  Lisbon  in  1195,  and,  moreover,  received  at  his 
christening  the  name  of  Ferdinand.  This,  however,  he 
changed  when  he  became  a  son  of  S.  Francis  for  that  of 
Antony,  it  is  said  from  devotion  to  the  great  Abbot  Anthony, 
the  patriarch  of  monks ;  for  it  was  in  a  chapel  under  his 
invocation  that  S.  Antony  of  Padua  was  received  into  the 
Franciscan  Order.  His  father  was  an  officer,  by  name  Martin 
de  Bullones,  who  fought  in  the  army  of  El  Consultador.  As  a 
youth  Antony  was  one  of  the  community  of  Canons  of  the 
Cathedral  of  Lisbon,  where  he  had  his  schooling.  But  not 
long  after  he  had,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  "  entered  among  the 
regular  Canons  of  S.  Austin";  he  desired  greater  seclusion  and 
silence,  and  so  went  to  the  Convent  of  the  Holy  Cross, 
belonging  to  the  Order,  at  Coimbra.  There  he  appears  to 
have  become  enamoured  of  the  ascetic  life,  and  to  have 
followed  it  during  eight  years.  Suddenly  a  new  idea  came  to 
him.    Don  Pedro,  Infant  of  Portugal,  about  that  time  brought, 


26o  VENICE  AND  YENETIA 

with  what  pomp  and  reverence  we  may  imagine,  the  relics  of 
five  Franciscans,  lately  martyred,  from  Morocco.  Antony  was 
immediately  possessed  by  an  enthusiasm  for  that  Order,  desiring 
above  all  things  to  lay  down  his  life  in  the  cause  of  Our  Lord. 
The  Franciscans,  seeing  his  enthusiasm,  encouraged  him  to 
join  them,  a  step  from  which  naturally  the  Canons  of  Holy 
Cross  endeavoured  to  dissuade  him.  But  in  all  the  struggles, 
both  interior  and  with  his  fellows,  that  followed  it  was  the 
poverty  and  austerity  of  the  Franciscan  Order  that  attracted  him, 
and  that  in  the  end  compelled  him  to  desert  the  Canons. 

In  1 22 1  he,  having  obtained  the  consent  of  his  prior, 
entered  into  the  Franciscan  Order,  taking  the  name  of 
Antony,  and,  consumed  by  his  enthusiasm,  he  early  set  out 
for  Africa,  to  seek  martyrdom  and  to  preach  the  Gospel. 
Illness  obliged  him  to  return  to  Spain.  In  this  he  saw  the 
hand  of  God.  For  by  chance  the  ship  in  which  he  sailed,  baffled 
from  its  course  by  contrary  winds,  touched  at  Messina,  where 
Antony  heard  that  S.  Francis,  his  hero,  was  holding  a  "  general 
chapter  "  at  Assisi.  Thither  he  went  in  spite  of  his  sickness, 
and  having  set  eyes  on  the  Little  Poor  Man  he  desired  never 
again  to  leave  him,  and  determined  not  only  to  forsake  his 
friends  but  his  country  also  that  he  might  stay  near  S.  Francis. 
No  superior,  however,  would  agree  "  to  be  troubled  "  with  him 
in  his  condition  of  illness,  till  at  length  a  certain  Gratiani, 
from  Romagna,  sent  him  to  a  hermitage  on  Monte  Paolo,  near 
Bologna.  Here  he  buried  himself  in  silence,  permitting 
neither  his  learning  nor  his  communications  with  God  to 
be  so  much  as  guessed  at ;  till  one  day  the  Franciscans  were 
entertaining  some  Dominican  Friars,  and  the  Franciscan 
superior,  wishing  to  show  his  guests  honour,  desired  one  of 
them  "  to  make  an  exhortation  to  the  company."  But  they 
all  made  excuse,  saying  they  were  unprepared.  Then  the 
superior  desired  Antony  to  speak  just  as  God  should  direct 
him,  and  he  too  begged  to  be  excused,  saying  that  he  had 
only  been  used  to  wash  the  dishes  in  the  kitchen  and  to 
sweep  the  house.  However,  he  was  commanded  to  proceed 
under  holy  obedience,  and  all  were  astonished,  not  alone  at 


PADUA  261 

his  humility  but  at  his  eloquence  and  learning.  All  this  came 
to  the  ears  of  S.  Francis,  who  sent  Antony  to  Vercelli  to  study 
and  to  teach.  Later  we  find  him  at  Bologna,  Padua,  Toulouse, 
and  Montpellier.  But  soon  he  forsook  the  schools  for  preach- 
ing, and  in  this  his  mission  he  passed  through  many  lands, 
making  many  converts  and  performing  many  miracles.  At 
last  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  great  devil  of  the  time, 
Ecelino  da  Romano.  This  fiend  in  human  shape  had  mur- 
dered more  than  1 1,000  persons  in  Padua  in  one  day,  and  the 
city  of  Verona,  too,  had  "through  him  lost  most  of  its 
inhabitants."  Antony  without  fear  confronted  him  and  told 
him  his  crimes,  when,  instead  of  ordering  his  guards  to 
murder  the  saint,  "to  their  great  astonishment  Ecelino 
descended  from  his  throne,  pale  and  trembling,  and,  putting 
his  girdle  round  his  own  neck  as  a  halter,  cast  himself  at  the 
feet  of  the  humble  servant  of  God,  and  with  many  tears 
begged  him  to  intercede  with  God  for  the  pardon  of  his  sins. 
The  saint  lifted  him  up  and  gave  him  suitable  advice  to  do 
penance.  Ecelino  seemed  for  some  time  to  have  changed  his 
conduct,  but  after  the  death  of  the  saint  relapsed  into  his 
former  disorders."  Well  might  Pope  Gregory  IX  call  Antony 
the  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  well  may  the  people  of  Padua  call 
him  II  Santo. 

Antony's  last  years  were  unhappy  on  account  of  the 
divisions  in  the  Order  then  after  S.  Francis's  death  suffering 
from  Frate  Elias.  We  hear  of  a  visit  to  La  Verna,  in  Tus- 
cany, where  S.  Francis  received  the  Stigmata,  and  a  little 
later  we  find  him  provincial  in  Romagna.  But  presently  he 
retired  to  Padua,  and  died  there  on  13  June,  1231,  in  his 
thirty-seventh  year.  At  the  news  of  his  death  we  hear  the 
children  ran  about  the  streets  crying,  u  II  Santo  e  morto." 
He  was  canonized  by  Gregory  IX  in  the  following  year,  and 
about  thirty  years  later  the  great  Church  of  II  Santo  was  built 
in  Padua,  and  his  relics  were  there  interned. 

That  might  seem  an  uneventful  life,  in  spite  of  the  encounter 
with  Ecelino,  to  call  forth  so  huge  a  church,  containing,  as  it 
does,  chapels  belonging  to  all  nations,  till  we  remember  that 


262  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

St.  Antony's  career  really  began  with  his  death.  The  great 
fact  about  him  for  us  all  is  that  he  finds  what  is  lost,  some- 
times for  love  and  always  at  a  very  reasonable  rate,  and  that 
he  devotes  these  offerings  as  often  as  not  to  the  poor.  This 
fact  explains  at  once  the  vast  and  ugly  church  which  so  hugely 
covers  his  poor  bones. 

Huge  as  it  is,  however,  and  ugly,  it  contains  very  little 
worth  the  trouble  of  seeing,  but  that  little  is  most  precious. 
For  instance,  over  the  main  door  in  a  lunette  is  a  fresco  by 
Mantegna  of  S.  Bernardino  and  S.  Antony  holding  the  mono- 
gram of  Our  Lord.  Within  the  church  are  two  fine  holy  water 
basins,  perhaps  by  Tullio  Lombardo.  By  the  second  pillar, 
on  the  right,  is  the  simple  monument  of  a  very  ornate  person- 
age, Cardinal  Bembo.  The  church  is  curiously  full,  too,  of 
the  tombs  of  Venetian  generals.  Alessandro  Contarini  lies  in 
a  sumptuous  tomb  by  the  second  pillar  on  the  left.  In  the 
first  chapel,  on  the  right,  General  Gattamelata  sleeps  in  a 
fine  tomb  by  Donatello,  or  rather  by  some  pupil,  perhaps 
Bellano  of  Padua.  The  same  man  made  the  tomb  here  of 
Gattamelata's  son,  Giovanni.  In  the  left  aisle,  close  to  the 
Cappella  del  Santo,  sleeps  Caterina  Cornaro. 

The  Cappella  del  Santo,  a  late  Renaissance  work,  has  little 
attraction  save  the  religious.  The  Cappella  S.  Felice  opposite, 
formerly  S.  Jacopo,  was  built  in  1372  by  Andreola  dei  Santi, 
of  Venice,  but  it  was  dreadfully  restored  in  1773.  It  possesses 
a  fine  altar  with  statues  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  with  saints 
of  1503,  and  is  still  decorated  with  frescoes  of  1376  by 
Altichieri  and  Jacopo  d'  Avanzo  of  Verona,  but  very  much 
restored.  They  are,  however,  by  far  the  most  interesting 
paintings  in  the  church. 

The  great  treasure  of  II  Santo  is,  however,  the  choir  with  its 
marble  screen,  designed  by  Donatello,  and  the  High  Altar, 
originally  a  design  of  the  same  master's,  and  still  possessing 
his  original  sculptures  and  bronzes.  It  was  for  this  work  that 
Donatello  came  to  Padua  in  1443.  Later  he  was  commis- 
sioned to  design  and  cast  the  Gattamelata,  and  altogether  he 
was  some  ten  years  in  the  city. 


PADUA  263 

Beside  II  Santo  is  the  Scuola,  the  house  of  the  Guild  of 
S.  Antony.  This  hall  was  decorated  with  seventeen  frescoes, 
of  which  three  were  by  Titian,  but  they  have  all  been  restored 
in  oil,  and  it  would  be  hard  to  discover  Titian's  hand  there 
now. 

Close  by  is  the  Cappella  S.  Giorgio,  once  the  burial  chapel 
of  the  Marchesi  di  Sovagna,  built  in  1377.  It  contains  some 
very  splendid  frescoes  by  Altichieri  and  Jacopo  d'  Avanzo  of 
Verona,  representing  the  story  of  S.  Lucy,  the  story  of  S. 
Catherine,  and  the  story  of  S.  George,  with  the  Crucifixion, 
the  Coronation  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  the  Flight  into  Egypt, 
the  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  and  the  Nativity. 

Next  door  is  the  Museo,  which  contains  so  little  of  interest 
as  to  be  scarcely  worth  a  visit  if  it  were  not  for  a  Madonna 
and  Child  by  Marco  Basaiti,  an  injured  altarpiece  by  Squar- 
cione,  a  S.  Patrick  by  Tiepolo,  a  large  altarpiece  by  Romanino, 
and  a  few  other  interesting  works.  Far  better  worth  visiting  is 
the  vast  Church  of  S.  Giustina,  which,  beside  some  interesting 
relics  of  old  time,  proudly  shown  by  the  sacristan,  has  a 
splendid  altarpiece,  the  Martyrdom  of  S.  Justina,  by  Paolo 
Veronese. 


XIX 

TWO    POETS    AND   THE    EUGANEAN 
HILLS 

THERE  is  one  journey  that,  if  only  in  memory  of  two 
dead  poets,  all  must  make  who  stay  more  than  a  single 
day  in  Padua.  It  is  a  journey  to  the  Euganean  hills,  and  the 
two  poets  such  a  pilgrimage  will  commemorate  are,  of  course, 
Petrarch  and  Shelley.  But  such  a  journey  made  with  due 
piety  will  be  something  more  than  a  duty  performed,  it  will 
be  in  a  very  real  way  its  own  reward.  For  of  all  the  various 
country  of  Venetia,  of  sea  and  seashore  and  delicate  visionary 
island,  of  mountain,  valley,  and  plain,  nothing  may  compare 
for  sheer  loveliness  with  these  Euganean  hills  which  beckon 
one  so  mysteriously  from  Venice,  and  which  fill  every  vista 
of  the  plain  with  their  strange  and  mysterious  beauty,  where 

"  Beneath  is  spread  like  a  green  sea 
The  waveless  plain  of  Lombardy, 
Bounded  by  the  vaporous  air, 
Islanded  by  cities  fair.  ..." 

It  was  with  these  lines  in  my  head  that  one  morning  when 
the  sun  was  shining  after  many  days  of  rain  I  set  out  from 
Padua  by  Barriera  Vittorio  Emanuele  for  Battaglia,  Arqua, 
and  Este.  The  road  was  broad,  straight,  and  flat,  but  the  world 
was  refreshed,  the  day  young,  and  all  the  flowers  in  the  world 
seemed  to  have  come  to  meet  me.  So  that  for  all  the  monotony 
of  the  plain  I  was  not  weary,  but  took  courage  and  lifted  mine 

eyes  to  the  hills,  ever  growing  clearer  and  more  lovely  as  I 

264 


TWO  POETS  265 

approached  them;  and  before  midday  in  very  good  spirits 
I  came  to  Battaglia,  where  I  ate  frugally  but  well,  and  setting 
out  again  presently  turned  out  of  the  straight  road  west- 
ward, and  a  little  after  found  myself  at  the  foot  of  the 
delectable  mountains,  which,  after  I  had  passed  a  little  lake, 
I  began  to  climb,  and  before  long  found  myself  in  Arqua 
Petrarca. 

Now  to  describe  the  beauty  of  this  place,  and  the  hills, 
in  a  valley  of  which  it  lies,  has  been  the  vain  attempt  of  so 
many  of  my  betters,  from  Disraeli  to  Gabriele  D'  Annunzio, 
that  I  shall  content  myself  with  bringing  the  reader  hither, 
giving  him  what  information  he  should  need,  and  perhaps 
quoting  for  my  own  delight  a  few  lines  of  Petrarch's,  a  few 
verses  of  Shelley.  Arqua  is  still  what  it  was  when  Petrarch 
in  his  old  age  first  saw  it  and  fell  in  love  with  it,  a  little 
mountain  village  and  a  gracious  fountain  : 

"  Fonti  numen  inest ;   hospes,  venerare  liquorem 
Unde  bibens  cecinit  digna  Petrarcha  Deis." 

What  fame  it  has — and  since  mere  beauty  is  too  common  in 
Italy  to  attract  the  notice  we  give  it  at  home,  it  would  other- 
wise be  but  little  renowned — what  fame  it  has  it  owes  all  to 
Petrarch. 

That  noble,  lofty  but  pedantic  poet  found  here  the  peace 
which  he  had  sought  in  vain  his  whole  successful  life  long, 
and  here  amid  his  roses  in  July,   1374,  he  died. 

It  was  in  the  year  1369  that  Petrarch  had  found  out  this 
village  in  the  Euganean  hills  which  ever  after  became  his 
summer  residence,  where,  indeed,  he  seems,  with  his  usual 
generosity,  to  have  kept  open  house,  with  something  more  of 
lavishness  than  might  be  looked  for  in  a  "simple  canon." 
The  Pope,  Gregory  XI,  a  Frenchman,  loving  him  well,  seems, 
indeed,  to  have  been  anxious  about  him,  and  instructed  Fran- 
cesco Bruno  to  write  and  inquire  how  he  did.  Petrarch 
answers  that  his  means  are  sufficient  for  a  simple  canon, 
but  since  he  has,  as  he  can  most  truly  say,  a  wider  circle 
of  acquaintance  than  all  the  rest  of  the  Chapter  together,  he 


266  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

has  very  many  unforeseen  expenses.  Besides  an  old  priest 
who  lives  with  him  a  whole  swarm  of  these  acquaintances 
will  often  suddenly  descend  upon  him,  and  he  has  not  the 
heart  to  turn  them  away  without  their  dinner.  Then,  too,  he 
finds  he  cannot  do  without  servants,  a  couple  of  horses,  and 
five  or  six  scribes.  Then  he  is  building  a  little  chapel  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  and  he  must  accomplish  this  though  he  should 
be  compelled  to  sell  even  his  books.  So  he  is  rather  pinched, 
and  age  makes  pinching  the  harder.  Therefore  if  Gregory  is 
minded  to  do  something  for  him  he  will  not  say  nay.  This 
letter — so  characteristic  of  Petrarch,  he  will  ask  for  nothing,  but, 
as  he  had  ever  done,  accept  what  God  sends  him — was  written 
from  Arqua  at  Whitsuntide,  1371.  That  was  his  third  summer 
there.  At  first,  in  1369,  he  had  stayed  in  the  convent  of 
the  Austin  Friars,  and  it  was  then  he  was  so  taken  with  the 
beauty  of  the  place  that  he  got  one  of  his  friends  to  buy  on 
his  behalf  a  plot  of  ground  with  a  vineyard,  a  garden  of  olives, 
and  a  little  orchard.  There  he  built  the  house  we  still  see 
above  the  village  on  the  hill-side  under  the  castello  which  in 
his  day,  unspoilt  and  unbroken,  crowned  the  summit  of  the 
hill.  Here  he  spent  his  old  age,  which  was  already  come 
upon  him.  He  was  continually  ailing  and  constantly  ready 
for  death. 

In  1372,  however,  he  had  to  leave  Arqua,  for  war  had 
broken  out  between  Francesco  da  Carrara  and  Venice,  and 
the  country  was  full  of  marauders.  Francesco,  as  we  know, 
was  compelled  to  surrender,  and  when  called  upon  to  plead 
before  the  Venetian  Senate  he  sent  his  son  to  Petrarch  to  ask 
him  to  plead  for  him.  Petrarch  was  much  loved  in  Padua 
and  had  received  many  kindnesses  from  the  Carrara  House. 
He  tried,  in  fact,  to  help  his  friend,  but  was  too  ill  to  speak 
on  the  day  appointed,  though  his  speech  was  delivered  well 
enough  on  the  following  day.  This  unhappy  affair  can  only 
have  distressed  him  to  the  utmost.  For  Francesco  was  not 
only  his  friend,  but  in  some  sort  his  pupil,  and  it  was  to  him 
that  Petrarch  had  addressed  the  long  letter  on  government, 
"on  the  best  methods  of  administering  a  State,"  in  which, 


TWO   POETS  267 

knowing  the  House  of  Carrara,  we  may  think  he  lays  great 
stress  upon  the  moral  qualities  necessary  to  a  good  ruler. 

In  Arqua,  doubtless,  too,  in  his  quiet  chair  at  night  between 
the  vines,  and  under  the  olives  at  morning  or  at  evening,  he 
composed  that  letter  to  Posterity  which  makes  so  noble  an 
autobiography,  so  pathetic  a  plea,  too,  for  remembrance, 
"  what  sort  of  man  I  was  and  what  was  the  outcome  of  my 
works."  There  we  read  of  hisj  home  at  Arqua  :  "  In  one  of 
the  Euganean  hills,"  he  writes,  "  near  ten  miles  from  the  city 
of  Padua,  I  have  built  me  a  house,  small,  but  pleasant  and 
decent,  in  the  midst  of  slopes  clothed  with  vines  and  olives, 
abundantly  sufficient  for  a  family  not  large  and  discreet. 
Here  I  lead  my  life,  and  although,  as  I  have  said,  infirm 
of  body,  yet  tranquil  of  mind,  without  excitements,  without 
distractions,  without  cares,  reading  always  and  writing  and 
praising  God,  and  thanking  God  as  well  for  evil  as  for  good ; 
which  evil,  if  I  err  not,  is  trial  merely,  not  punishment,  and 
all  the  while  I  pray  to  Christ  that  He  make  good  the  end  of 
my  life,  and  have  mercy  on  me  and  forgive  me  and  even 
forget  my  youthful  sins ;  wherefore,  in  this  solitude  no  words 
are  so  sweet  to  my  lips  as  those  of  the  psalm,  '  Delicta  juven- 
tutis  meae :  et  ignorantias  meas  ne  memineris?  And  with  every 
feeling  of  the  heart  I  pray  God  when  it  pleases  Him  to  bridle 
my  thoughts,  so  long  unstable  and  erring  j  and  as  they  have 
vainly  wandered  to  many  things,  to  turn  them  all  to  Him — 
the  only  true,  certain,  immutable  Good." 

Such  was  Petrarch  at  Arqua,  blessed  in  the  quietness  which 
led  him  thus  so  perfectly  to  God.  Nor  is  this  merely  a 
mood.  His  letters  to  all  his  friends  are  full  of  such  words, 
only  less  beautiful  than  when  he  spoke  them  to  himself  and 
to  us.  To  his  best  friend,  and,  in  so  much,  his  most  devoted 
disciple,  Giovanni  Boccaccio,  he  writes  in  the  same  way : 
"You  write  that  my  ill-health  makes  you  sad;  I  know  it  and 
am  not  surprised,  for  neither  of  us  can  be  really  well  while  the 

other  is  ailing What  I  should  really  like  is,  not  to  be 

younger  than  I  am,  but  to  feel  that  I  had  reached  old  age  by 
a  course  of  more  honourable  deeds  and  pursuits  ;  and  nothing 


268  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

disturbs  me  more  than  that  in  all  this  long  while  I  have  not 
reached  the  goal  I  ought  to  have  reached.  .  .  .  There  is  no 
nimbler  or  more  delightful  burden  than  the  pen;  other 
pleasures  flee  away  and  do  you  a  mischief  even  while  they 
soothe  you ;  but  your  pen  soothes  you  in  the  taking  up  and 
delights  you  in  the  laying  down  of  it ;  and  it  works  profit  not 
only  to  its  master  but  to  many  beside,  often  even  to  the 
absent,  and  sometimes  to  posterity  after  thousands  of  years. 
I  think  I  speak  absolute  truth  when  I  say  that  of  all  earthly 
delights  as  there  is  none  more  honourable  than  literature, 
so  there  is  none  more  lasting  or  sweeter  or  more  constant; 
none  which  plays  the  comrade  to  its  possessor  with  so  easily 
gotten  an  equipment  and  with  so  little  irksomeness.  .  .  .  This 
do  I  desire  for  myself,  that  when  death  overtakes  me  he 
may  find  me  either  reading  or  writing  or,  if  Christ  so  wills 
it,  praying  and  in  tears." 

Petrarch  had  his  wish ;  the  best  supported  account  of  his 
death  tells  us  that  he  died  in  his  library  turning  the  pages 
of  his  "  De  Viris  Illustribus  "  on  the  morning  of  his  seventieth 
birthday. 

What  his  death  meant  to  his  friends  we  may  gather  best, 
I  think,  from  that  wonderful  letter  of  Boccaccio's  which  he 
wrote  to  Francesco  da  Brossano,  Petrarch's  son-in-law.  In 
reading  it  we  may  realize  perhaps  what  manner  of  man 
Petrarch  was. 

Boccaccio,  ill  and  himself  not  far  from  death,  writes  as  one 
heart-broken :  "  I  received  your  sorrowful  letter,  most  well- 
beloved  brother  .  .  .  and  not  knowing  the  writing  I  broke 
the  seal  and  looked  for  the  name  of  the  writer,  and  as  soon 
as  I  read  your  name  I  knew  what  news  you  had  to  tell  me, 
that  is  to  say,  the  happy  passing  of  our  illustrious  father  and 
master,  Francesco  Petrarca,  from  the  earthly  Babylon  to  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem.  Although  none  of  my  friends  had  written 
me  save  you,  since  everyone  spoke  of  it  I  had  known  it  for 
some  time — to  my  great  sorrow — and  during  many  days  I 
wept  almost  without  ceasing,  not  at  his  ascension,  but  for 
myself  thus  unhappy  and  abandoned.     And  that  is  not  won- 


TWO  POETS  269 

derful,  for  no  one  in  the  world  loved  him  more  than  I .  .  .  . 
You  say  that  he  has  ended  his  days  at  the  village  of  Arqua 
in  the  contado  of  Padua ;  that  he  wished  his  ashes  to  remain 
always  in  that  village,  and  that  to  commemorate  him  for  ever 
a  rich  and  splendid  tomb  is  there  to  be  built.  Alas  !  I  admit 
my  crime — if  it  can  be  called  a  crime.  I  who  am  a  Floren- 
tine grudge  Arqua  this  shining  good  fortune  that  has  befallen 
her,  rather  through  his  humility  than  through  her  merit — the 
guardianship  of  the  body  of  the  man  whose  soul  has  been  the 
favourite  dwelling-place  of  the  Muses  and  of  all  Helicon.  .  .  . 
It  follows  that  not  only  Arqua,  almost  unknown  even  to  the 
Paduans,  will  now  be  known  to  all  foreign  nations  however  far 
off,  but  that  her  name  will  be  held  in  honour  by  the  whole 
universe.  One  will  honour  thee,  Arqua  as  without  seeing 
them  we  honour  in  our  thoughts  the  hill  of  Posilipo  at  the 
foot  of  which  are  placed  the  bones  of  Virgil  .  .  .  and  Smyrna, 
where  Homer  sleeps,  and  other  like  places.  ...  I  do  not 
doubt  that  the  sailor  returning  laden  with  riches  from  the 
farthest  shores  of  the  sea,  sailing  the  Adriatic  and  seeing  afar 
the  venerable  summits  of  the  Euganean  Hills,  will  say  to  him- 
self or  to  his  friends :  '  These  hills  guard  in  their  breast  the 
glory  of  the  universe,  him  who  was  once  the  triumph  of  all 
knowledge,  Petrarch,  the  poet  of  sweet  words,  who  by  the 
Consular  Senate  was  crowned  in  the  Mother  City  with  the 
laurel  of  triumph,  and  whose  many  beautiful  works  still  pro- 
claim his  inviolable  renown.'  The  black  Indian,  the  fierce 
Spaniard  ,  .  .  seized  with  admiration  for  this  sacred  name 
will  one  day  come  and  before  the  tomb  of  so  great  a  man 
salute  with  respect  and  piety  the  ashes  which  it  holds,  com- 
plaining the  while  of  their  misfortune  that  they  should  not 
have  seen  him  living  whom  dead  they  visit.  Alas  !  my 
unhappy  city,  to  whom  it  has  not  been  given  to  guard  the 
ashes  of  so  illustrious  a  son,  to  whom  so  splendid  a  glory 
has  been  refused ;  it  is  true  that  thou  art  unworthy  of  such 
an  honour,  thou  hast  neglected  to  draw  him  to  thee  when 
he  was  alive  and  to  give  him  that  place  in  thy  heart  which  he 
merited.     Ah !  had  he  been  an  artisan  of  crimes,  a  contriver  of 


270  VENICE  AND  YENETIA 

treason,  a  past-master  in  avarice,  envy,  and  bitter  ingratitude, 
thou  wouldst  have  called  him  to  thee.  Yet  even  as  thou  art 
I  should  prefer  that  this  honour  had  been  accorded  thee  rather 
than  Arqua.  .  .  .  But  since  God  has  wished  it  let  the  name 
of  Arqua  live  through  the  centuries,  and  let  her  inhabitants 
preserve  always  an  honour  for  which  they  should  indeed  be 
thankful.  .  .  ." 

Florence,  however,  who  had  expelled  Dante,  threatened 
him  with  death,  and  had  seen  him  buried  with  honour  at 
Ravenna,  was  not  to  be  so  easily  resigned  to  the  loss  Boccaccio 
bemoans,  though  in  truth  since  she  expelled  Petrarch's  father 
and  confiscated  his  goods  she  deserved  nothing  else.  Petrarch 
was  buried  at  Arqua  with  much  ceremony,  his  coffin  was  borne 
by  sixteen  Doctors  of  Law,  and  four  Bishops  took  part  in  the 
funeral.  He  was  laid  temporarily  in  the  parish  church  till,  six 
years  later,  a  sarcophagus  was  made  in  Padua.  For  many 
years  Florence  watched,  hiding  her  envy  and  her  shame. 
But  one  day  in  1630,  when  the  tomb  had  fallen  into  disrepair, 
a  certain  monk,  or  friar,  more  like,  named  Tommaso  Mar- 
tinelli,  attempted  to  steal  the  body,  and  actually  brought  away 
with  him  to  Florence  one  of  the  dead  poet's  arms,  which  is 
said  now  to  be  in  Madrid.  Petrarch  no  more  than  Boccaccio 
— the  one  for  love,  the  other  for  hate — was  allowed  to  rest  in 
his  grave. 

There  is  really  very  little  to  be  seen  within  the  old  house 
that  indubitably  was  Petrarch's :  a  few  poor  frescoes  concerned 
with  his  life,  his  bedroom,  which  is  said  to  be  as  it  was  in  his 
day,  his  study  with  his  broken  chair,  table,  inkstand,  and — his 
stuffed  cat.  These  are  all,  and  these  remind  us  less  of  him 
than  the  landscape  does,  the  byways  of  the  village,  the 
tender  vines  and  quiet  gardens,  and  the  beautiful  hills  he 
loved.  It  is  to  these  we  shall  be  wise  to  give  ourselves ;  to 
these  and  to  the  road  which  will  presently  lead  us  down  into 
the  valley  beyond  Arqua,  and  winding  about  Monte  del  Cas- 
tello  bring  us  through  Baone  to  Este  on  the  southern  skirts 
of  the  Euganean,  where  another  poet  had  for  a  brief  summer 
his  home. 


TWO  POETS  271 

The  villa  I  Cappuccini,  which  may  still  be  seen,  was  lent 
to  Shelley  by  Byron,  who  had  rented  it  as  a  summer  residence 
for  himself.  Writing  to  Rogers  on  3  March,  18 18,  Byron  says: 
"The  villa  you  speak  of  is  one  at  Este  which  Mr.  Hoppner 
(Consul-General  here)  has  transferred  to  me.  I  have  taken  it 
for  two  years  as  a  place  of  villeggiatura.  The  situation  is  very 
beautiful  indeed,  among  the  Euganean  hills,  and  the  house 
is  very  fair.  The  vines  are  luxuriant  to  a  great  degree,  and 
all  the  fruits  of  the  earth  abundant.  It  is  close  to  the  old 
castle  of  the  Estes  or  Guelphs,  and  within  a  few  miles  of 
Arqua,  which  I  have  visited  twice  and  hope  to  visit  again." 

Writing  from  Venice,  where,  leaving  Mrs.  Shelley  at  the 
Bagni  di  Lucca,  he  had  gone  to  meet  Byron,  Shelley  writes 
to  his  wife  in  the  late  summer  of  that  year :  ".  .  .  Pray  come 
instantly  to  Este,  where  I  shall  be  waiting  in  the  utmost 
anxiety  for  your  arrival.  You  can  pack  up  directly  you  get 
this  letter  and  employ  the  next  day  on  that.  The  day  after 
get  up  at  four  o'clock  and  go  post  to  Lucca,  where  you  will 
arrive  at  six.  Then  take  a  vetturino  for  Florence,  to  arrive  the 
same  evening.  From  Florence  to  Este  is  three  days'  vetturino 
journey — and  you  could  not,  I  think,  do  it  quicker  by  the  post. 
Make  Paolo  take  you  to  good  inns,  as  we  found  very  bad 
ones ;  and  pray  avoid  the  Tre  Mori  at  Bologna,  perche  vi  sono 
cose  intspressibili  nei  letti.  I  do  not  think  you  can,  but  try 
to  get  from  Florence  to  Bologna  in  one  day.  Do  not  take 
the  post,  for  it  is  not  much  faster  and  very  expensive.  .  .   * 

That  letter  tells  us  that  travelling  in  Italy  was  of  old  as 
leisurely  a  business  as  one  could  wish. 

In  a  letter  to  Peacock,  dated  Este,  8  October,  1818,  Shelley 
says  :  "  We  have  been  living  this  last  month  near  the  little 
town  from  which  I  date  this  letter,  in  a  very  pleasant  villa 
which  has  been  lent  to  us.  .  .  .  Behind  us  here  are  the 
Euganean  hills,  not  so  beautiful  as  those  of  the  Bagni  di 
Lucca,  with  Arqua,  where  Petrarch's  house  and  tomb  are 
religiously  preserved  and  visited.  At  the  end  of  our  garden 
is  an  extensive  Gothic  castle,  now  the  habitation  of  owls  and 
bats,  where  the  Medici  family  resided  before  they  came  to 


272  VENICE  AND   VENETIA 

Florence.  We  see  before  us  the  wide,  flat  plains  of  Lom- 
bardy,  in  which  we  see  the  sun  and  moon  rise  and  set,  and 
the  evening  star,  and  all  the  golden  magnificence  of  autumnal 
clouds.  ...  I  have  been  writing,  and  indeed  have  just 
finished,  the  first  act  of  a  lyric  and  classical  drama  to  be 
called  'Prometheus  Unbound.'" 

On  7  November  Shelley  left  Este  for  Naples.  He  had 
written  something  more  than  the  first  act  of  the  "Pro- 
metheus" at  Este,  he  had  composed  the  "Lines  Written 
among  the  Euganean  Hills,"  and  there  we  find,  as  we  might 
expect,  one  of  those  strangely  vivid  pictures  that  none  knew 
better  how  to  paint  of  the  world  that  lay  before  his  eyes  in 
those  quiet  autumn  days  : — 

"  Noon  descends  around  me  now  : 
'Tis  the  noon  of  autumn's  glow, 
When  a  soft  and  purple  mist 
Like  a  vaporous  amethyst, 
Or  an  air-dissolved  star 
Mingling  light  and  fragrance,  far 
From  the  curved  horizon's  bound 
To  the  point  of  heaven's  profound, 
Fills  the  overflowing  sky ; 
And  the  plains  that  silent  lie 
Underneath  ;  the  leaves  unsodden 
Where  the  infant  frost  has  trodden 
With  his  morning-winged  feet 
Whose  bright  print  is  gleaming  yet ; 
And  the  red  and  golden  vines 
Piercing  with  their  trellised  lines 
The  rough  dark-skirted  wilderness  ; 
The  dun  and  bladed  grass  no  less, 
Pointing  from  this  hoary  tower 
In  the  windless  air ;  the  flower 
Glimmering  at  my  feet ;   the  line 
Of  the  olive-sandalled  Apennine 
In  the  south  dimly  islanded; 
And  the  Alps,  whose  snows  are  spread 
High  between  the  clouds  and  sun; 
And  of  living  things  each  one ; 
And  my  spirit,  which  so  long 
Darkened  this  swift  stream  of  song, — 


TWO  POETS  273 

Interpenetrated  lie 

By  the  glory  of  the  sky ; 

Be  it  love,  light,  harmony, 

Odour,  or  the  soul  of  all 

Which  from  heaven  like  dew  doth  fall 

Or  the  mind  which  feeds  this  verse 

Peopling  the  lone  universe." 

Yes,  it  is  the  memories  of  two  such  minds,  of  two  poets, 
which  people  for  us  the  Euganean  hills.  We  forget  all  about 
that  castle,  "now  the  habitation  of  owls  and  bats,"  where 
Shelley  thought  the  Medici  lived  before  they  came  to  Florence; 
and  though  it  was  indeed  the  home  of  a  greater  race  than  the 
Medici,  who,  in  fact,  never  knew  it — of  a  race  from  which 
most  of  the  royal  families  of  Europe  have  originated,  sprung 
from  Alberto  Azzo,  Marquis  of  Este,  himself  descended  from 
the  Adalbati  Margraves  of  Tuscany,  we  think  not  of  it,  for 
this  ground  is  holy  with  the  footsteps  of  two  of  those  who 
have  revealed  to  us  so  much  of  what  is  worth  having  in  our 
own  souls,  that  here,  at  any  rate,  we  can  only  remind  our- 
selves of  them. 

"In  the  deep  umbrage  of  a  green  hill's  shade 
Which  shows  a  distant  prospect  far  away, 
Of  busy  cities  now  in  vain  display'd, 
For  they  can  lure  no  further ;   and  the  ray 
Of  a  bright  sun  can  make  sufficient  holiday." 


XX 

VICENZA 

IN  his  journeyings  about  Italy  to-day,  and  especially  in  this 
northern  Italy,  so  largely  composed  of  a  vast  plain  and 
lacking  in  the  mystery  and  surprise  of  the  hills,  it  is  hard  to 
find  or  to  recover  the  Italy  of  our  dreams,  the  country  that 
Claude  knew  well  and  that  somewhere  in  the  heart  of  every 
Northerner  is  hidden  away  with  heaven,  a  place  perhaps  that 
modern  "progress"  has  reduced  to  a  superstition  and  a  vain 
desire.  Yet  I  think  that  Italy  of  our  hearts  is  to  be  found, 
and  indeed  I  can  swear  that  once  or  twice  it  seems  to  me  that 
I  have  seen  it,  in  Tuscany,  in  Umbria,  in  the  Roman  Cam- 
pagna ;  but  to  look  for  it  in  Venetia,  to  hope  for  it  even,  had, 
I  confess,  little  by  little  come  to  seem  to  me  ridiculous.  That 
was  before  I  had  seen  Vicenza.     Vicenza  is  the  place  itself. 

I  was  to  blame :  I  know  it.  I  had  come  to  Venetia  with 
Tuscany  in  my  heart — what  could  I  have  expected  ?  If  a  man 
has  given  himself  to  the  hills  it  is  not  in  Lombardy  or  Venetia 
he  should  waste  his  time.  Little  by  little  I  had  come  to  realize 
that.  I  grew  weary :  first  of  the  mud,  then  of  the  dust,  then 
of  the  endless  vista  of  every  road,  the  lack  of  variety,  the 
damnable  iteration  of  city  after  city,  all  of  the  plain  and  all  of 
a  piece.  I  was  home-sick  for  the  outlines  of  Tuscany,  the  hills 
of  olives,  that  are  silver  in  the  wind,  over  the  golden  corn,  the 
terraces  of  vines,  the  line  of  cypresses  against  the  olives.  And 
in  Venetia  I  found  only  a  world  illimitable  in  which  I  was  a 
shadow. 

It  was  in  that  hour  on  a  fair  summer  morning  that  I  came 

274 


•  •  •« 

•  >  • \ 


.••  »•• 


•   »      I     • 


VICENZA  275 

to  Vicenza.  I  found  it  as  a  child  finds  an  overlooked  gift 
long  forgotten  out  of  mind.  It  gave  me  back  my  heari;.  No 
one  writes  of  Vicenza  though  it  is  famous,  no  one  speaks  of  it 
though  it  is  a  household  word,  no  one  goes  to  it  though  it  is 
on  the  highway.  Its  name  is  as  familiar  in  the  mouth  as  Padua 
is,  yet  it  stands  for  nothing.  It  is  a  halt  on  the  road  to  Venice 
as  Verona  is,  and  far  more  obvious  and  ready  to  hand  than 
Mantua,  yet  no  one  marks  it.  And  while  Padua,  Verona,  and 
Mantua  have  come  to  be  synonyms  for  some  of  the  greater 
names  in  the  true  history  of  the  world,  so  that  he  who  says 
Padua,  Verona,  and  Mantua  says  S.  Antony,  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  and  Virgil,  he  who  says  Vicenza  says  nothing ;  nothing 
universal,  that  is,  nothing  that  is  as  familiar  in  Rome  as  in 
Britain,  as  secure  in  the  Teutonic  as  in  the  Latin  heart. 

That  cannot  now  be  mended.  Whatever  we  may  do  Padua, 
Verona,  Mantua,  and  Venice  will  echo  in  our  ears  from  the 
verse  of  Shakespeare  while  the  word  Vicenza  will  be  unheard. 
It  is  part  of  the  irony  of  things  as  they  are,  that  while  Padua 
is  exalted  Vicenza  should  be  unknown.  Yet  such  a  fate  has 
its  compensations.  You  and  I,  for  instance,  march  into  Padua 
expecting  infinite  wonders.  Wonders  we  perceive,  but  are  they 
to  be  named  beside  the  imagination  of  our  hearts  ?  We  make 
pilgrimage  to  the  city  of  Juliet  expecting  I  know  not  what 
revelation  of  beauty.  Nor  can  we  remain  there  unmoved; 
and  yet  who  that  has  sojourned  in  that  busy  place  with  its 
vast  entanglement  of  trams,  its  extraordinary  distances,  its 
terrific  new  square  with  its  brand  new  statue  of  Vittorio 
Emanuele  that  dwarfs  the  very  Arena  of  the  Romans,  who 
that  has  endured  these  things  has  not  been  discouraged,  has 
not  returned  almost  in  tears  to  the  pages  of  Shakespeare  con- 
vinced, and  more  than  convinced,  that  there  alone  may 
Verona  truly  be  found? 

Now  here  is  the  compensation  of  Vicenza :  the  incredible 
good  fortune  promised  by  the  gods  in  half  a  hundred  fairy 
tales  from  Cinderella  downwards  and  on  every  living  page  of 
the  Gospels,  as :  the  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth,  the  last  shall 
be  first. 


276  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

Thus  is  it  written  and  thus  it  is.  You  enter  Padua  with 
trembling,  Venice  with  what  life  has  left  you  of  an  outworn 
reverence,  Verona  prepared  to  be  impressed;  but  you  come 
to  Vicenza  as  to  any  jolly  town  of  God's  world  without  a 
thought  about  it  most  like,  seeking  food  to  stay  your  need  and 
a  bed  to  rest  in.  And  because  you  have  demanded  nothing 
she  gives  you  her  whole  heart. 

Now  the  history  of  Vicenza,  though  it  is  not  of  history  we 
think  in  coming  to  her,  may  be  told  here  in  a  few  words,  for  it 
is  one  with  that  of  all  these  cities  of  the  Veneto.  Like  Padua 
first  she  was  a  free  commune,  then,  like  Padua  again,  she  fell 
into  Ecelino's  hands.  In  1236  Frederic  II  took  her  by  storm, 
and  when  he  was  departed  she  fell  under  the  yoke  of  Padua  in 
the  time  of  the  Carraresi.  Then  Can  Grande  of  Verona  seized 
her  in  131 1,  and  in  1387  she  came  for  a  time  into  the  power 
of  the  Visconti  before  she  found  peace  under  the  benign 
dominion  of  the  Republic  of  Venice  in  1404.  Such  is  her 
history.  But  her  story  in  so  far  as  we  may  read  it  to-day  is 
full  of  peace.  As  we  wander  up  and  down  her  quiet  streets, 
in  and  out  of  her  shadowy  churches,  looking  up  at  her  vast 
palaces,  wondering  at  her  great  theatre,  charmed  by  her  meek 
pictures,  her  extraordinary  air  of  aloofness  and  quiet,  it  is  not  of 
Ecelino  and  Carrara  and  Can  Grande  and  Visconti  we  think, 
indeed  we  are  scarcely  reminded  of  them,  but  of  two  of  her 
own  sons  who  in  a  better  and  more  enduring,  if  quieter,  way 
have  given  her  her  character,  a  character  which  is  as  visible 
and  remarkable  to-day  as  ever  it  was.  Bartolommeo  Montagna 
and  Andrea  Palladio  are  the  names  that  remain  in  your  heart 
when  you  have  done  with  Vicenza,  and  you  are  not  likely  to 
forget  them. 

But  in  truth  most  of  us  who  are  lucky  enough  to  have  found 
out  Vicenza  came  to  her  first  thinking  little  of  Montagna  and 
not  over  eager  to  see  the  work  of  Palladio ;  yet  I  think  no  one 
has  entered  her  gates  but  has  loved  her  at  first  sight,  and  this 
I  attribute  for  my  part  not  to  any  man  at  all  but  to  God.  He 
put  her  just  where  she  is,  and,  rightly  understood,  that  is  her 
secret. 


VICENZA  277 

Consider  then  :  here  is  a  man  who  has  spent  many  a  month 
in  Venice,  who  has  continually  passed  up  and  down  the  great 
plain  between  the  Piave  and  the  Po,  and  who  after  so  long, 
unless  indeed  he  be  a  Venetian,  is  weary  of  all  this  illimitable 
world,  this  vast  tyranny  of  sun  and  sky  and  cloud,  who  would 
willingly  go  barefoot  if  he  might  but  climb  a  hill,  who  is  home- 
sick for  the  mountains,  for  something  of  earth  visibly  to  break 
the  monotony  of  the  horizon. 

Such  a  man  but  whets  his  appetite  at  Arqua  and  Este.  He 
is  upon  the  hills  it  is  true,  and  very  far  off  they  shine  and 
shine  and  disappear  each  night  and  day,  but  all  about  him  is 
the  great  plain,  "the  waveless  plain  of  Lombardy."  Now 
conceive  such  a  man  setting  out  any  fair  morning  from  Padua 
along  the  great  road  that  runs  north-west,  a  little  south  of  the 
railway  but  north  of  the  river  Bacchiglione.  All  the  long  day 
he  sees  little  enough  but  green,  he  creeps  and  crawls  along  in 
the  dust  of  the  way,  he  is  subject  to  every  hedgerow  and  com- 
mands nothing.  At  night  he  comes  into  Vicenza.  In  the 
morning  up  he  gets  and  up  he  looks.  His  heart  stands  still, 
tears  fill  his  eyes.  In  his  sleep  the  hills  have  heard  him  and 
come  about  him :  and  there  to  the  north  they  stand  splendid 
and  terrible,  and  there  to  the  south  they  stand  soft  and  lovely, 
and  he  may  take  his  fill  of  them.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  for 
such  a  man  Vicenza  seems  in  some  way  to  be  divine?  She 
has  given  him  the  desire  of  his  heart. 

Standing  thus  on  the  flank  of  the  mountains  that  here  are 
thrust  into  the  plain  and  attempt  to  cross  it  in  the  great  step- 
ping-stones of  the  Monti  Berici  and  the  Colli  Euganei,  Vicenza 
holds  a  true  valley  though  it  knows  no  river,  the  valley  between 
the  great  mountains  and  the  Monti  Berici :  and  her  true  sign 
is  the  great  Temple  of  Madonna,  on  a  spur  of  those  hills,  the 
Madonna  del  Monte,  which  beckons  for  twenty  miles  or  so 
across  the  plain  and  signals  where  she  stands. 

Coming  from  the  railway  station  between  the  hills  and  the 
city  one  enters  Vicenza  by  the  Porta  del  Castello,  where  to  the 
left  is  a  great  old  tower  of  the  Scaligers,  now  the  campanile  of 
a  church.     Once  within  the  gate  the  one  great  street,  the  Corso, 


278  VENICE  AND   VENETIA 

leaves  the  Piazza  di  Castello  there  and  runs  quite  through 
the  city  to  the  Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele  and  the  Porta  degli 
Angeli.  By  following  this  way  and  leaving  it  now  and  then  a 
few  paces  right  or  left  all  that  is  most  notable  in  Vicenza  may 
be  seen  in  one  long  morning. 

To  begin  with  the  Piazza  del  Castello :  on  the  right  is  the 
Palazzo  Giulio  Porto,  known  as  the  Casa  del  Diavolo,  a  great 
unfinished  building  by  Palladio.  It  strikes  as  it  were  the 
keynote  of  the  whole  town,  pre-eminently  Palladian  as  it 
is.  We  begin  with  the  work  of  this  great  man  as  we  shall 
end  with  it. 

Palladio  was  born  in  Vicenza  in  15 18  and  died  here  in  1580. 
He  was  the  founder  of  that  style  of  architecture  modelled  on 
Roman  work  or  developed  from  it  as  taught  by  Vitruvius, 
which  has  had,  I  suppose,  after  the  decadence  of  pointed 
architecture,  the  greatest  influence  on  the  architects  of  all 
countries.  Certainly  in  England  Inigo  Jones  and  Christopher 
Wren  were  Palladio's  followers,  the  former  even  prepared  notes 
for  an  English  translation  of  the  "  Quattro  Libri  dell'  Architet- 
tura,"  published  in  17 15. 

In  Venice  we  see  Palladio  mainly  as  a  builder  of  churches, 
in  his  native  city  we  see  him  as  a  builder  of  palaces,  and  what- 
ever we,  at  the  mercy  of  our  time,  may  think  of  his  work  no 
one,  I  imagine,  will  be  found  to  deny  it  an  impressiveness  and 
nobility  which  he  owed  less,  it  might  seem,  to  Vitruvius  than 
to  his  own  genius.  No  man  who  sets  out  to  revive  in  different 
and  new  conditions  an  ancient  art  can  escape  the  curse  of 
all  such  artificialities,  I  mean  a  lack  of  spontaneity.  What  is 
surprising  here  in  Vicenza  is  the  vitality  of  so  much  Palladio 
resurrected. 

Goethe,  saturated  with  the  classical  tradition,  and  at  that 
time  indifferent  to  the  work  of  the  Middle  Age,  writes  during 
his  Italian  travels  of  Palladio  as  "aman  really  and  intrinsically 
great,  and  whose  greatness  is  manifest  in  his  work.  There  is 
(he  says)  something  indeed  divine  in  Palladio's  designs,  which 
may  be  compared  to  the  creations  of  a  great  poet.  .  .  ."  Well, 
perhaps  so.     Perhaps  we  might  compare  Palladio's  work  with 


VICENZA  279 

Virgil's :  but  that  would  leave  us  begging  the  whole  question. 
For  I  do  not  think  we  can  compare  the  derived,  adapted,  and 
imitative  art  of  Palladio  with  that  of  the  Greeks  or  the  Gothic 
builders  any  more  than  we  may  compare  the  JEneid  with  the 
Odyssey,  or  for  that  matter  with  Shakespeare's  plays.  Never- 
theless in  Vicenza  it  is  possible  to  enjoy  Palladio's  work  without 
an  afterthought,  for  here  he  is  concerned  almost  altogether 
with  domestic  work ;  and  as  a  builder  of  palaces  he  is,  I  think, 
largely  successful.  As  a  church  builder  we  have  too  many 
incomparable  and  innocent  things  in  our  hearts  to  bear  with 
the  weight  of  his  reminiscences,  the  cunning  of  his  adaptations, 
the  futile  learning  that  obscured  his  genius.  His  native  city, 
however,  with  all  piety  helps  her  son  out,  and  as  you  pass 
through  Vicenza,  not  too  eager  maybe  to  appreciate  his  work, 
you  will  be  continually  charmed  by  the  beauty  that  the  people 
of  Vicenza  have  bestowed  upon  it :  lightening  it  with  a  wealth 
of  verdure,  a  tiny  bosco  of  trees  seen  through  a  great  portico,  a 
vision  of  bright  flowers  filling  a  heavy  courtyard,  a  sense  of 
space  and  air  given  to  a  shadowy  opening  by  the  flash  and 
sound  of  a  fountain  running  with  water. 

If  as  we  pass  down  the  Corso  we  turn  into  the  Strada  Loschi 
on  the  right,  we  shall  find  ourselves  before  the  Duomo  of 
Vicenza,  a  broad  and  low  Gothic  church  with  a  Renaissance 
choir  and  little  indeed  to  recommend  it.  Little,  but  at  least 
this :  a  picture  of  the  Death  of  the  Virgin  by  Lorenzo  Vene- 
ziano  in  the  fifth  chapel  on  the  right,  and  in  the  fourth  chapel 
to  the  left  some  frescoes  by  Bartolommeo  Montagna. 

Bartolommeo  Montagna  is  the  most  remarkable  of  the 
painters  of  Vicenza.  He  was  not  born,  it  seems,  within  the 
city,  but  certainly  established  himself  there  and  belongs  to  the 
Vicenza  school,  if  indeed  that  city  can  rightly  be  said  to  have 
had  a  school  of  painting.  He  came  first  into  prominence  in 
1470  and  developed  under  the  influence  of  Carpaccio  and  the 
Bellini,  though  he  is  generally  regarded  as  a  pupil  of  Man- 
tegna.  His  work  is,  however,  original  in  character,  and  as 
quiet  as  an  Umbrian's,  possessing  strange  qualities  of  gem- 
like colour  which  belong  to  it  alone.     His  work  is  the  most 


28o  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

characteristic  in  Vicenza,  and  in  any  memory  of  the  city  it  is 
his  pictures  we  recall. 

Returning  to  the  Corso,  which  we  continue  to  follow,  we 
pass  on  the  left  the  Palazzo  Thiene,  and  then  the  Casino 
Vecchio  and  the  Palazzo  da  Schio,  fine  Gothic  buildings  of 
the  fifteenth  century :  on  the  right  we  see  the  Palazzo  Porto,  a 
work  by  Scamozzi,  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The  last  two 
are  beyond  the  crossing  of  the  Contrada  Cavour,  which  leads 
to  the  great  Piazza  de'  Signori,  with  its  Venetian  columns  and 
vast  Basilica  Palladiana,  a  huge  palace  consisting  of  two  stories, 
the  lower  Doric,  the  upper  Ionic,  an  early  work  by  Palladio 
but  extended  after  him  and  not  finished  till  1614,  enclosing 
the  Gothic  Palazzo  della  Ragione.  Here,  too,  is  the  Loggia 
del  Capitano,  built  by  Palladio  in  1571,  and  various  other 
public  buildings  of  much  later  date. 

Returning  to  the  Corso,  and  following  it  to  the  end,  we 
come  to  the  Casa  di  Palladio  and  the  great  Palazzo  Chiericati, 
which  I  take  to  be  the  master's  masterpiece  in  the  way  of 
palaces,  but  which  was  restored  in  1855.  Close  by,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  Piazza,  is  the  Teatro  Olimpico,  begun  by 
Palladio  in  1579  and  completed  by  Scamozzi,  when  it  was 
opened  with  a  performance  of  the  CEdipus  Tyrannus  of 
Sophocles. 

Mr.  Evelyn  thus  describes  these  buildings :  "  Vincenza  is  a 
citty  .  .  .  full  of  gentlemen  and  splendid  palaces,  to  which 
ye  famous  Palladio,  borne  here,  has  exceedingly  contributed, 
having  ben  the  architect.  Most  conspicuous  is  the  Hall  of 
Justice  (Palazzo  della  Ragione);  it  has  a  toure  of  excellent 
work ;  the  lower  pillars  are  of  the  first  order ;  those  of  the 
three  upper  corridors  are  Doric;  under  them  are  shops  in  a 
spacious  piazza.  The  hall  was  built  in  imitation  of  that  at 
Padoa,  but  of  a  nobler  designe,  a  la  moderna.  The  next  morn- 
ing we  visited  ye  theatre,  as  being  of  that  kind  the  most  perfect 
now  standing,  and  built  by  Palladio  in  exact  imitation  of  the 
ancient  Romans,  and  capable  of  containing  5,000  spectators. 
The  sceane,  which  is  all  of  stone,  represents  an  imperial  citty, 
ye  order  Corinthian  decorated  with  statues.    Over  the  scenario 


FIVE   SAINTS 

MONTAGNA 
(S.  Corona,  Vicenza) 


VICENZA  281 

is  inscribed,  'Virtuti  ac  Genio  Olympic* :  Academia  Theatrum 
hoc  a  fundamentis  erexit  Palladio  Architect :  1584.'  The 
sceane  declines  1 1  foote,  the  suffito  painted  with  cloudes.  To 
this  there  joynes  a  spacious  hall  for  sollemn  days  to  ballot  in, 
and  a  second  for  Academics.  In  ye  Piazza  is  also  the  podesth 
or  governour's  house,  the  facia ta  being  of  ye  Corinthian  order, 
very  noble." 

A  later  traveller,  and  one  trained  to  appreciate  to  the 
utmost  the  intention  of  Palladio,  speaks  thus  of  the  teatro-. 
"  The  Olympic  Theatre  is  a  theatre  of  the  ancients,  restored 
on  a  small  scale,  and  indescribably  beautiful.  Compared  with 
our  theatres,  however,  it  reminds  one  of  a  genteel,  rich,  well- 
bred  child  contrasted  with  a  shrewd  man  of  the  world,  who, 
though  neither  as  rich  nor  genteel  nor  well-bred,  knows  better 
how  to  employ  his  resources."  With  this  verdict  of  Goethe 
we  may  well  agree.  He  has  spoken  our  very  thought.  A 
theatre  to-day  is  not  really  a  work  of  art;  its  aim  is  not 
beauty,  but  use,  and  it  but  rarely  attempts  anything  more 
than  to  fit  itself  as  commodiously  as  possible  into  the  space 
of  ground  at  its  disposal.  The  exterior  seldom  has  any  real 
relation  to  the  interior,  and  save  in  one  or  two  instances,  no 
one  looking  at  our  theatres  in  London,  for  instance,  could  re- 
ceive any  notion  of  their  true  shape  or  size  from  their  outward 
appearance.  Our  most  famous  buildings  of  this  sort — Covent 
Garden  Opera  House  or  Drury  Lane  Theatre — have  no  claim 
at  all  on  us  as  works  of  art :  they  are  well-arranged  barns, 
in  which  a  multitude  may  be  gathered  together  without 
too  much  inconvenience  or  risk.  Palladio's  intention  was 
very  different  from  anything  of  this  sort.  Founding  himself 
on  Vitruvius,  whose  directions  he  carried  out  with  the 
utmost  loyalty,  he  was  able  to  build  a  theatre  which  I  sup- 
pose to  be  as  useless  for  the  modern  stage  as  I  suspect  it  to 
have  been  for  the  stage  of  his  day.  The  Italian  theatre, 
always  without  a  single  native  tragedy,  entirely  consisted  of 
a  school  of  artificial  comedy — very  delightful,  but  without  any 
sense  of  grandeur  or  nobility.  For  the  inauguration  of  their 
theatre  the  Vicenzesi  were  compelled  to  fall  back  on  Sophocles 


282  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

and  to  open  their  new  house  with  a  play  which  still  holds  the 
Italian  boards.  Such  a  play  I  imagine  to  have  been  in  place 
here,  but  that  only  emphasizes  the  fact  that  this  building  had 
but  little,  if  any,  vital  relation  with  the  work  and  life  of  its  own 
time.  And  here  I  think  we  come  upon  the  truth  with  regard 
to  the  whole  work  of  Palladio.  Essentially  a  scholar,  an  artist 
at  the  mercy  of  rules  long  since  outmoded,  everything  he  built 
is  an  imitation  or  a  revival  of  a  style  that  was  obsolete.  His 
churches  have  nothing  to  do  with  Christianity,  and  are  merely 
adaptations  more  or  less  adequate  for  its  needs.  His  palaces 
are  certainly  more  in  touch  with  the  need  of  his  time,  and 
even  of  ours,  but  they  show  no  creative  power,  and  what 
nobility  they  have  comes  from  the  fact  that  mere  human 
nature  is  much  the  same  in  all  ages.  His  theatre  was  a 
splendid  but  forlorn  hope ;  small  as  it  rightly  was,  life  could 
not  fill  it — it  was  only  a  tomb. 

The  vast  Palazzo  Chiericati  in  the  Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele 
contains  the  Vicenza  picture  gallery.  It  consists  of  a  small 
but  valuable  collection  of  pictures  at  present  half  hung  and 
in  the  greatest  confusion,  but  among  them  even  now  may  be 
distinguished  several  fine  works  by  Montagna,  an  early  work 
by  Cima,  a  good  Tiepolo,  a  rare  Antonello  da  Messina,  and 
pictures  by  Jacopo  da  Bassano,  Tintoretto,  and  Paolo  Veronese. 

There  remain  still  in  Vicenza  three  churches  with  impor- 
tant pictures,  and  these  all  stand  in  that  part  of  the  town 
which  lies  to  the  north  of  the  Corso.  The  first,  S.  Corona, 
is  close  to  the  Theatre  of  Palladio.  It  is  a  fine  Gothic 
building  of  brick,  erected  in  the  thirteenth  century.  Here 
we  find,  beside  some  frescoes  by  Speranza,  a  follower  and 
imitator  of  Montagna,  a  fine  altarpiece  by  Montagna  himself 
of  five  saints  in  a  Renaissance  frame  over  the  second  altar 
on  the  left,  and  over  the  fifth  a  magnificent  work  by  Giovanni 
Bellini — the  Baptism  of  Christ. 

Close  to  S.  Corona  stands  S.  Stefano,  with  its  splendid 
altarpiece  by  Palma  Vecchio — the  Madonna  with  S.  Lucy 
and  S.  George. 

Passing  some  Palladian  palaces,  we  come  to  another  fine 


VICENZA  283 

thirteenth-century  church  of  brick,  S.  Lorenzo;  here  is  a 
fresco  by  Montagna  in  the  choir  chapel  on  the  left  j  and  here 
Montagna  was  buried.  To  the  north-east  of  S.  Lorenzo  we 
pass  another  Palladian  palace,  Palazzo  Valmarana,  before  we 
come  to  the  Church  of  S.  Rocco,  where  over  the  High  Altar 
is  the  masterpiece  of  Buonconsiglio,  the  best  of  Montagna's 
followers.  It  represents  the  Madonna  enthroned  with 
SS.  Sebastian,  Bernard,  Peter,  and  Paul,  and  was  painted 
in  1502. 

But  the  best  work  Vicenza  has  to  offer  us,  and  the  most 
characteristic  of  her  greatest  painter,  is  not  within  the  city 
wall,  but  just  without  it  in  the  great  Temple  of  the  Madonna 
that  crowns  one  of  the  spurs  of  the  Monti  Berici,  about  a 
mile  from  the  town.  The  way  thither  is  steep  and  perhaps 
tiring,  but  it  is  full  of  rewards,  for  the  views  we  get  thence 
over  the  plain  and  towards  the  mountains  are  finer  than 
anything  to  be  seen  in  Bassano  or,  I  think,  at  Arqua.  The 
whole  Veneto  seems  to  lie  at  our  feet  not  divorced  from  the 
hills,  but  indeed  their  own  child,  created  by  them  and  in  a 
very  real  way  subject  to  them. 

A  church  and  convent  have  stood  here  since  1428,  in 
which  year  the  Blessed  Virgin  appeared  in  a  vision  on  this 
mountain  to  some  shepherds.  In  1688  the  church  was 
rebuilt  in  the  latest  fashion,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  form  of  a 
Greek  Cross  under  a  dome.  The  church  is  coldly  interesting, 
but  what  we  have  come  to  see  is  the  marvellous  picture  by 
Montagna — a  Pieta,  one  of  the  few  truly  religious  pictures 
painted  in  the  sixteenth  century. 

Beyond  the  church  there  is  a  magnificent  walk  along  the 
ridge  of  the  hill,  where  all  that  is  best  and  most  characteristic 
in  the  Venetian  terra  firma,  is  spread  out  before  you.  Vicenza 
is  at  your  feet,  and  as  evening  comes  over  the  vast  plain  you 
begin  to  understand  what  primarily  a  city  is,  why  it  was  built, 
and  whence  its  origin. 


XXI 
VERONA 


THE  road  from  Vicenza  to  Verona  runs  south-west  at  the 
foot  of  the  great  mountains,  which  here  are  thrust  into  the 
plain  like  so  many  vast  bastions,  between  which  deep  valleys 
push  their  way  far  into  the  country  of  the  hills.  The  road  is 
perhaps  the  loveliest  in  all  this  country  of  the  Veneto  just 
because  it  is  never  far  from  the  hills.  At  first  setting  out  it 
runs  between  two  ranges  of  them,  for  to  the  south  of  it 
rise  the  island  group  of  peaks  we  call  Monti  Berici.  And 
when  it  leaves  them  behind  and  emerges  into  the  plain  still 
in  the  shadow  of  the  great  mountains  to  the  north,  it  is 
guarded  all  the  way  on  the  south  by  the  Adige  quite  into 
Verona.  Following  that  road  afoot,  it  is  a  good  two  days' 
walk  into  Verona.  But  what  matters?  There  are  many 
pleasant  places  by  the  way.  Montebello  has  none  so  poor 
an  inn  that  it  should  be  despised,  and  above  it  rises  an  old 
castello  of  the  Montecchi,  Shakespeare's  Montagues,  from 
whom  was  Romeo  sprung,  so  that  it  might  seem  a  place  of 
rest  of  right  for  Englishmen.  And  after  Montebello  there 
is  Monteforte,  there  is  Soave  of  the  Scaligers,  there  are  the 
hot  springs  of  Caldiero  which  the  Romans  knew,  there  is 
S.  Martino,  and  that  was  a  monastery;  indeed,  there  is  all 
the  history  and  the  poetry  of  our  Europe  if  you  can  but  see 
it,  and  as  a  background  some  of  the  loveliest  scenery  in  the 
world. 

Yet  I  confess,  such  is  the  nature  of    man,  that  with  so 

284 


VERONA  '285 

majestical  a  prize  as  Verona  at  the  end  of  the  journey,  he 
is  exceptional  who  can  linger  by  the  wayside  and  count  the 
rivers  and  sing  to  the  mountains,  adore  the  sun  and  pluck  the 
flowers,  and  rejoice  in  the  long  way  and  the  great  road,  and 
despise  the  railway.  Verona  is  too  much  for  most  of  us, 
and  all  as  nothing  that  prevents  her. 

But  what  is  Verona?  In  the  memory  of  the  world  she  is 
the  city  of  Juliet,  of  the  Two  Gentlemen,  and  remotely  of  that 
poor  poet — who  was  all  a  Mantuan — that  Dante  spoke  of, 
Sordello ! 

"  A  single  eye 
In  all  Verona  cared  for  the  soft  sky." 

We  think,  and  rightly,  of  Verona  as  a  city  of  romance,  a 
place  inviolate  in  our  dreams,  consecrated  for  ever  by  the 
greatest  of  poets,  the  home  of  two  people  who  possibly  never 
existed,  but  who  are  much  more  real  to  us  than  most  of 
those  who  cumber  the  world.  Others  less  wise  but  more 
instructed  remember  the  old  vine  dresser  of  Claudian, 
driven  out  by  the  Huns,  watching  his  house  burn  and  his 
vintage  spoiled ;  they  see  the  wizened,  eager  face  of  the 
devilish  Ecelino,  or  the  proud  and  noble  Can  Grande  della 
Scala  welcoming  the  great  fugitive  Dante  Alighieri.  Such  is 
Verona  as  she  appears  to  us  in  our  day-dreams ;  but  what 
is  the  real  Verona? 

The  real  Verona  is  now  and  has  always  been  a  fortress  ; 
for  that  she  was  born  and  for  that  she  lives.  Any  large  map 
of  Central  Europe  will  convince  us  of  this.  Verona  stands 
at  the  southern  entrance  of  the  greatest  and  the  most  famous 
of  all  the  gates  of  the  Germanies,  the  gate  of  the  Brenner, 
which  Innspruck  holds  on  the  north.  Behind  Verona  the 
great  mountains  rise,  cloven  here  by  the  Brenner  Pass.  Above 
that  pass  rise  two  rivers — the  Adige,  which  flows  down  into 
the  Italian  plain  and  the  Adriatic,  and  the  Inn,  which  flows 
down  into  the  Danube  and  so  into  the  Black  Sea.  Here  is 
the  frontier,  and  here  is  the  iron  gate  which  the  Goths  at  last 
clanged  open  when  they  fell  upon  Italy  and  the  Germanies 
surged  into  Europe.    That  is  the  real  Verona — the  fortress  by 


286  VENICE   AND  VENETIA 

the  gate ;  and  this  she  has  been  for  near  three  thousand  years 
without  a  change ;  for  as  she  held  that  gate  in  the  beginning, 
as  she  held  it,  though  she  failed  at  last,  in  the  time  of  the 
Empire,  so  she  held  it  in  the  wars  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
and,  armed  to  the  teeth,  so  she  holds  it  to-day.  Verona  has 
always  been  full  of  soldiers,  and  a  single  walk  through  her 
streets  any  Thursday  evening  will  presently  convince  the 
stranger  that  she  no  more  thinks  of  disarmament  to-day  than 
at  any  time  in  her  history.  Rather  is  she  doubly  vigilant. 
For  if  the  barbarism  of  the  Germanics — which  we  call  Central 
Europe  not  necessarily  in  terms  of  culture,  but  in  terms  of 
geography — should  rise  again,  it  is  through  this  gash  in  the 
great  hills  and  across  this  frontier  it  must  flow  like  Etna's 
infernal  avalanche  upon  what,  when  all  is  said,  is  still  the 
fairest  country  of  our  world. 

Verona  is  very  old  :  she  has  looked  into  the  face  of  war  for 
many  thousand  years.  If  those  few  huts  on  the  Colle  di 
S.  Pietro  represent,  as  it  were,  her  foundation,  to  whom  do 
we  owe  it?  Her  chroniclers  claim  for  her  an  antiquity  as 
fabulous  as  that  of  any  other  Italian  city,  speaking  of  her 
as  famous  before  the  building  of  Troy,  before  the  disaster  of 
the  Flood.  These  vague  dates  mean  nothing  to  us ;  yet  when 
in  our  turn  we  begin  to  make  examination  and  to  establish 
her  militant  here  in  earth  as  a  fortress  of  the  Etruscans  or  of 
the  Cimbri  or  of  the  Gauls,  we  are  equally  at  a  loss.  All  we 
can  say  is  that  she  is  very  old  and  that  it  seems  possible  the 
Etruscans  either  occupied  or  founded  her  some  six  centuries 
before  the  birth  of  Our  Lord.  Two  centuries  later  she  was 
certainly  in  existence,  and  it  seems  probable  that  in  the  third 
century  B.C.  she  became  part  of  the  Roman  world,  was 
garrisoned  by  Roman  soldiers,  and  accepted  Roman  pro- 
tection. She  seems  to  have  fought  beside  Rome  at  the  battle 
of  Cannae,  and  to  have  held,  or  tried  to  hold,  the  mountain 
gate  against  the  Germanies  in  the  end  of  the  second  century 
B.C.  From  that  date  at  least  she  must  have  continually 
received  much  Teutonic  blood,  which  may  account  for  much 
in  her  later  history. 


VERONA  287 

When  precisely  Verona  came  under  the  influence  of 
Rome  it  seems  impossible  to  determine;  but  she  became 
a  Roman  colony  in  B.C.  89,  under  the  Lex  Pompeia^  and  after 
the  battle  of  Philippi,  with  the  rest  of  the  cities  in  Cisalpine 
Gaul,  it  seems  that  her  people  were  granted  Roman  citizen- 
ship. Under  the  Empire  Verona  soon  became  of  the  greatest 
importance,  for  she  held  the  German  gate,  and  most  of  the 
North  Italian  roads  met  in  her  streets.  The  Via  Gallica 
passed  through  Verona,  as  did  the  Via  Postumia  and  the 
Bologna  road.  She  took  her  part  in  all  the  wars  of  the 
Empire:  in  that  which  placed  Vespasian  in  the  seat  of 
Augustus,  in  that  which  saw  Philip  the  Arab  dead  at  her 
gates,  and  in  that  which  saw  Claudius  II  victorious  over  the 
Barbarians. 

Even  to-day  her  Roman  remains  are  of  the  utmost  import- 
ance, including  much  beside  the  vast  amphitheatre,  which  is 
as  tremendous  a  relic  of  Rome  as  anywhere  exists  outside  the 
Eternal  City.  We  shall  consider  its  date  later ;  it  is  enough 
here  to  note  that  it  alone  would  be  a  witness  of  the  Roman 
importance  of  the  city.  This  importance  is  also  witnessed 
by  the  sieges  she  has  endured;  notably  that  of  the  year  312, 
when  Constantine  came  down  from  the  Mont  Cenis  and  found 
her  in  his  path.  Of  this  siege  Gibbon  gives  us  a  graphic 
account :  "  From  Milan  to  Rome  the  ^Emilian  and  Flaminian 
highways  offered  an  easy  march  of  about  four  hundred  miles ; 
but  though  Constantine  was  impatient  to  encounter  the  tyrant 
[it  was  Maxentius],  he  prudently  directed  his  operations 
against  another  army  of  Italians,  who  by  their  strength  and 
position  might  either  oppose  his  progress,  or,  in  case  of  a 
misfortune,  intercept  his  retreat.  Ruricus  Pompeianus,  a 
general  distinguished  by  his  valour  and  ability,  had  under 
his  command  the  city  of  Verona  and  all  the  troops  that  were 
stationed  in  the  province  of  Venetia.  As  soon  as  he  was 
informed  that  Constantine  was  advancing  towards  him,  he 
detached  a  large  body  of  cavalry,  which  was  defeated  in  an 
engagement  near  Brescia,  and  pursued  by  the  Gallic  legions 
as  far  as  the  gates  of  Verona.     The  necessity,  the  importance, 


288  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

and  the  difficulties  of  the  siege  of  Verona  immediately  pre- 
sented themselves  to  the  sagacious  mind  of  Constantine. 
The  city  was  accessible  only  by  a  narrow  peninsula  towards 
the  west,  as  the  other  three  sides  were  surrounded  by  the 
Adige,  a  rapid  river,  which  covered  the  province  of  Venetia, 
from  whence  the  besieged  derived  an  inexhaustible  supply  of 
men  and  provisions.  It  was  not  without  great  difficulty,  and 
after  several  fruitless  attempts,  that  Constantine  found  means 
to  pass  the  river  at  some  distance  above  the  city,  and  in  a 
place  where  the  torrent  was  less  violent.  He  then  encom- 
passed Verona  with  strong  lines,  pushed  his  attacks  with 
prudent  vigour,  and  repelled  a  desperate  sally  of  Pompeianus. 
That  intrepid  general,  when  he  had  used  every  means  of 
defence  that  the  strength  of  the  place  or  that  of  the  garrison 
could  afford,  secretly  escaped  from  Verona,  anxious  not  for 
his  own  but  the  public  safety."  He  returned  with  a  new 
army,  but  Constantine  was  ready  for  him,  and  after  a  very 
bloody  battle  remained  the  victor  and  received  the  submission 
of  Verona.  Thereafter  Verona  became  a  part  of  the  Western 
Empire,  and  was  often  the  home  of  the  Emperors  in  the 
restless  years  that  followed,  for  it  held  the  key  not  only  to 
Germany  but  to  all  Upper  Italy. 

With  the  dawn  of  the  fifth  century  the  city  was  to  under- 
stand what  that  position  entailed  upon  her.  In  402  she  saw 
Alaric  cross  the  Alps,  and  may  well  have  divined  that  he  was 
but  a  herald.  Met  and  defeated  by  Stilicho  at  Pollentia, 
Alaric,  with  a  great  unbroken  part  of  his  army,  crossed  the 
Apennines  to  conquer  Rome,  but  Stilicho  was  at  his  heels, 
and  arranged  terms  which  sent  the  Barbarian  back  across  the 
Po,  Stilicho  still  following  him.  "  The  King  of  the  Goths," 
says  Gibbon,  "  ambitious  to  signalize  his  retreat  by  some 
splendid  achievement,  had  resolved  to  occupy  the  important 
city  of  Verona,  which  commands  the  principal  passage  of  the 
Rhaetian  Alps.  ...  In  the  bloody  action  at  a  small  distance 
from  the  walls  of  Verona  the  loss  of  the  Goths  was  not  less 
heavy  than  that  which  they  had  sustained  in  the  defeat  of 
Pollentia;  and  their  valiant  king,  who  escaped  by  the  swift- 


VERONA  289 

ness  of  his  horse,  must  either  have  been  slain  or  made 
prisoner,  if  the  hasty  rashness  of  Alaric  had  not  disappointed 
the  measures  of  the  Roman  general.  Alaric  secured  the 
remains  of  his  army  on  the  adjacent  rocks,  and  prepared 
himself  with  undaunted  resolution  to  maintain  a  siege  against 
the  superior  numbers  of  the  enemy  who  invested  him  on  all 
sides.  But  he  could  not  oppose  the  destructive  progress  of 
hunger  and  disease  .  .  .  and  the  retreat  of  the  Gothic  king 
was  considered  as  the  deliverance  of  Italy." 

That  was  in  403.  Verona  had  then  long  been  a  Catholic 
city,  Christianity  having  been  introduced,  according  to  the 
legend,  in  the  first  age,  and  had  gloried  in  a  bishop  appointed 
by  S.  Peter  himself.  Her  first  eight  bishops,  in  fact,  were  all 
canonized,  S.  Zeno  being  the  last  of  them,  who  was  bishop  in 
390.  At  this  time  Verona  was  subject  to  the  Metropolitan 
See  of  Milan,  which  embraced  practically  all  Northern  Italy. 

As  we  have  seen,  though  Verona  was  not  able  to  keep 
Alaric  out  of  Italy,  she  was  not  herself  at  his  mercy.  It  was 
different  with  the  next  and  heathen  invasion.  In  452  Attila 
with  his  Huns  invaded  Venetia  by  way  of  Aquileia,  and  having 
razed  that  city  to  the  ground,  he  flung  down  also  Vicenza, 
Verona,  and  Bergamo.  We  do  not  know  what  they  suffered, 
all  we  can  see  is  the  figure  of  that  old  husbandman  which 
Claudian  shows  us  watching  his  trees,  his  old  contemporary 
trees,  "burning  in  his  orchard,  his  vines  trampled  underfoot, 
his  family,  his  happiness  swept  away  before  his  eyes." 

But  life  had  not  done  with  Verona,  as  she  had  with 
Aquileia.  In  476  Odoacer  crossed  the  pass  she  kept,  pro- 
claimed himself  King  of  Italy,  and  with  his  Barbarians  made 
Verona  his  fortress.  Theodoric  swept  him  out  and  adopted 
Verona  as  his  own,  loving  it  well  and  building  greatly  there,  as 
on  the  Colle  di  S.  Pietro,  where  he  had  his  palace.  With  the 
decline  of  the  Gothic  power  Verona  once  more  saw  anarchy. 
Not  till  the  Longobards  under  Alboin  came  over  the  hills  did 
she  know  anything  that  could  pass  for  settled  rule.  Alboin 
established  himself  in  Verona,  and  there  gave  that  famous 
banquet  when  he  bade  his  wife  Rosamund  drinki  from  her 


29o  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

father's  skull,  and  so  compassed  his  own  end,  for  the  queen 
had  him  slain  in  574  and  fled  to  Ravenna. 

It  was  the  Longobards  who  established  dukes  in  Verona, 
and  their  rule  endured  for  more  than  two  centuries,  till,  in 
fact,  Charlemagne  came  to  find  his  kingdom  and  to  restore 
the  Empire  from  which  Europe  was  made. 

Under  Carlovingian  rule  counts  took  the  place  of  the 
Longobard  dukes,  and  Charlemagne's  son,  Pepin,  was  said 
to  have  been  buried  outside  the  Church  of  S.  Zeno,  where 
Roland  and  Oliver  still  stand  on  guard.  There  followed  here, 
as  elsewhere  in  Italy,  an  appalling  darkness,  the  darkness  of 
the  ninth  century.  Figures  pass  to  and  fro  in  that  night,  but 
not  one  of  them  stands  out  till  the  Empire  was  re-established 
out  of  the  confusion,  and  we  suddenly  find  in  the  year  1076 
Henry  IV  and  Gregory  VII  face  to  face. 

Verona  sided  with  the  Emperor,  and  was  faithful  to  him, 
hoping  to  gain  the  freedom  of  what  had  come  to  be  her 
Commune.  But  she  could  not  love  Frederic  Barbarossa, 
whose  cruel  work  in  Milan  she  witnessed.  An  attempt  to 
destroy  him  as  he  crossed  the  Adige  above  the  city  by  the 
bridge  of  boats  failed,  and  Verona,  fearing  his  vengeance, 
joined  the  Lombard  League  on  its  formation  in  n  64  against 
him,  and  took  part  in  the  victory  of  Vigasio  in  her  own  terri- 
tory, which  forced  Frederic  to  the  Peace  of  Venice  in  n  78. 

Verona  had  won  her  freedom  from  exterior  interference, 
but  she  was  now,  and  for  many  years,  to  be  at  the  mercy 
of  her  own  factions.  By  joining  the  Lombard  League  she 
had  ceased  to  be  Ghibelline,  but  in  thus  forsaking  the 
Imperial  cause  she  was  by  no  means  unanimous.  Too  much 
was  to  be  gained  by  division.  The  most  famous  factions  that 
now  began  to  prey  upon  her  were  those  of  the  Ghibelline 
Montecchi  and  the  Guelf  Cappelletti,  Shakespeare's  Mon- 
tagues and  Capulets.  Every  sort  of  anarchy  and  private  war 
obtained,  and  the  confusion  was  only  not  too  great  to  prevent 
the  renewal  of  the  Lombard  League  against  Frederic  II  in 
1226.  Peace  was  preached  not  only  by  the  Pope  but  by  the 
newly-born  Orders  of  S.  Francis  and  S.  Dominic,  and  espe- 


VERONA  291 

daily  in  Verona  by  a  Dominican,  Fra  Giovanni  da  Vicenza, 
who  held  a  vast  assembly  in  this  cause  a  few  miles  outside 
the  city  of  Verona,  on  28  August,  1233,  when  not  less 
than  400,000  persons  are  said  to  have  been  present  to  hear 
him;  the  whole  population  of  many  cities,  according  to 
Sismondi,  having  gathered  there.  Fra  Giovanni  was  success- 
ful in  so  far  that  for  the  moment  the  factions  were  afraid, 
for  in  his  enthusiasm  he  had  sixty  members  of  the  principal 
families,  both  men  and  women,  burnt  alive  for  heresy.  So 
much  for  S.  Dominic. 

But  there  was  one  about  to  present  himself  in  Verona  before 
whom  Fra  Giovanni  was  as  a  torchlight  to  the  sun.  The 
Montecchi  faction  had  lately  found  support  in  one  Ecelino  da 
Romano,  whose  name  is  like  a  red  sign  in  all  the  history  of 
this  country.  I  have  spoken  of  him  elsewhere.1  If  he  mur- 
dered 11,000  persons  in  Padua  be  sure  Verona  did  not  go 
free.  His  name  became  more  terrible  than  Satan's,  more 
murderous  than  Attila's.  Men  said  he  was  the  child  of  the 
devil,  and  Dante  placed  him  in  his  Hell.  He  became  Ghibel- 
line  captain  in  Verona,  Vicenza,  Padua,  and  many  another 
city,  till  the  Pope  sent  a  crusade  against  him,  and  he  died 
"  like  a  boar  at  bay,  rending  from  his  wounds  the  dressings 
his  enemies  had  placed  to  keep  him  alive."  In  Verona  he 
had  married  at  S.  Zeno  Selvaggia,  the  natural  daughter  of 
Frederic  II,  and  it  was  he  who  hurled  down  the  castello  in 

1243,  so  tnat  we  now  see  his  rmn- 

In  Venetia,  and  indeed  in  Northern  Italy  generally,  Ecelino 
serves  as  a  bloody  signature  to  the  end  of  an  appalling  chapter. 
He  had  proved  the  futility  of  the  Commune,  its  weakness 
before  the  force  of  a  single  individuality;  what  the  factions 
had  foretold  he  fulfilled,  and  with  him  end  Commune, 
factions — all.     There  remained  the  Signori. 

These  lords  came  in  the  old  form  of  Podesta,  and  the  first, 

Mastino  della  Scala,  was  never  more,  either  in  name  or  power. 

Nevertheless  he  founded  a  line  of  masters  and  lords  that  lasted 

for   more   than  a   hundred  years,  and  under  whom  Verona 

1  See  supra,  p.  237. 


292  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

attained  her  greatest  strength  and  consequent  happiness,  her 
greatest  fertility,  too,  in  learning  and  the  arts. 

And  first  as  to  the  work  of  Mastino.  He  curbed  the  fac- 
tions and  restored  a  sort  of  confidence.  With  a  firm  hand  he 
crushed  rebellion  wherever  it  appeared,  and  in  1262  he  was 
elected  Captain  of  the  People.  Nor  was  he  less  successful  in 
what  we  may  call  his  foreign  policy.  He  brought  Piacenza 
under  his  rule,  and  persuaded  Cremona  to  join  the  Ghibelline 
party;  and  when  in  1267  Conradin,  the  last  of  the  Hohen- 
staufen,  entered  Verona  on  his  way  south,  he  received  him 
nobly,  and  saw  him  on  his  way  so  far  as  Pavia,  of  which 
Conradin  made  him  Rector.  He  returned  to  Verona  to 
subdue  the  Guelf  city  of  Mantua,  where  he  established  his 
brother  Alberto  as  Podesta.  Thus  he  had  founded  his 
dominion  when  in   1277  he  was  suddenly  murdered. 

Alberto  della  Scala  of  Mantua  presently  avenged  him,  and 
in  doing  it  made  himself  actual  lord  of  Verona,  and  before  long 
of  Reggio  and  Parma  also,  of  Vicenza  and  Feltre  and  Belluno. 
This  man  was  a  great  builder.  He  built  new  walls  and 
bridges,  and  in  1301  began  the  Casa  dei  Mercanti.  He  was 
a  good  and  strong  ruler,  and  ambitious  for  his  family.  The 
times  were  on  his  side.  He  was  able  to  ally  himself  through 
his  children  with  the  d'  Este  and  the  Visconti,  and  when  he 
died  in  September,  1301,  he  was  greeted  as  the  saviour  of  his 
people. 

He  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Bartolommeo,  a  man  of 
culture  and  of  peace,  who  had  the  honour,  shared  later  with 
his  brother,  Can  Grande,  of  welcoming  Dante  to  his  city,  and 
Dante  repaid  them  in  the  seventeenth  Canto  of  the  "  Paradise" 
Bartolommeo  was  not  a  great  ruler,  but  he  seems  to  have 
been  beloved.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  brother  Alboino, 
whom  Dante  contemned ;  he  was  a  sort  of  Guelf  and  a  weak 
ruler.  He  soon  associated  his  great  brother,  Can  Grande, 
with  him  in  his  lordship,  a  man  who  was  to  be  among  the 
most  splendid  princes  of  his  time.  The  chronicles  are  full  of 
him  from  his  birth  to  his  death,  endless  legends  grew  up  about 
him,  and  we  learn  that  he  was  the  bravest,  the  most  eager, 


VERONA  293 

and  the  wisest  captain  in  all  Venetia,  which  to  so  large  an 
extent  he  brought  under  his  sway.  That  he  was  religious  we 
cannot  doubt ;  he  founded  S.  Maria  della  Scala  and  endowed 
the  Church  of  S.  Fermo.  Dante  fixed  his  hopes  in  him  after 
the  death  of  Henry  VII  at  Bonconvento,  praised  him  in  glow- 
ing verses,  quarrelled  with  him  and  left  him,  but  dedicated  the 
"  Paradiso  "  to  him  at  last  in  that  Tenth  Epistle  in  which  he 
expresses  the  meaning  of  his  great  poem.  Giovanni  Villani, 
the  Florentine  chronicler,  calls  him  "  the  greatest  lord  and  the 
richest  and  most  powerful  prince  that  has  been  in  Lombardy 
since  Ecelino  da  Romano,"  while  Boccaccio  in  almost  iden- 
tical terms  praises  him  in  the  seventh  story  of  the  First  Day  of 
the  "  Decameron." 

A  great  captain,  a  great  builder,  a  great  sportsman — he  kept 
three  hundred  hawks — the  host  of  the  greatest  poet  of  his  age, 
Can  Grande  was  also  a  great  patron  of  artists  and  of  scholars. 
We  hear  of  Doctors  of  Theology,  of  Astrologers,  of  Philoso- 
phers, and  Musicians  at  his  court,  and  we  know  that  it  was  at 
his  invitation  Giotto  came  to  Verona,  though,  alas  !  there  is 
nothing  now  left  there  to  remind  us  of  it. 

This  great  man  died  at  Treviso  in  July,  1329,  when  about 
thirty-eight  years  of  age.  His  successors  were  still  very  young 
and  were  not  his  sons,  for  he  had  no  legitimate  issue,  but  his 
nephews,  Mastino  and  Alberto.  Mastino  was  merely  ambi- 
tious, without  wisdom  or  nobility.  Alberto  was  merely 
vicious,  and  cared  only  for  a  life  of  pleasure.  They  enjoyed 
a  vast  income,  more  than  700,000  florins  of  gold  according  to 
Villani,  from  the  ten  towns,  including  Lucca,  which  Can 
Grande  had  conquered  or  had  ruled,  but,  not  content,  they 
foolishly  offended  Venice  by  building  a  salt  factory  near 
Chioggia,  and  taxed  Venetian  merchandize  as  it  entered  the 
Brenta.  In  less  than  ten  years  after  Can  Grande's  death 
Venice  with  her  allies  attacked  them,  and,  as  we  know, 
through  trusting  their  prisoner,  Marsilio  da  Carrara,  lately  lord 
of  Padua,  with  an  embassy  to  the  Doge,  they  lost  Padua, 
Alberto  was  taken  prisoner,  and  Mastino  was  forced  to  break 
up  his  dominion,  ceding  towns  to  the  King  of  Hungary  and 


294  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

to  the  Visconti.  Mastino  seems  to  have  been  driven  mad  by 
misfortune.  In  the  August  of  1338,  in  a  fit  of  fury,  he  mur- 
dered with  his  own  hand  Bishop  Bartolommeo  della  Scala, 
and  brought  down  upon  his  head  the  anger  of  the  ChurcL 
The  Pope  excommunicated  him,  and  for  long  all  seemed  los< . 
He  managed,  however,  to  marry  his  daughter  to  Bernabb 
Visconti,  heir  of  Milan,  and  his  eldest  son,  Can  Grande  II,  to 
the  daughter  of  the  King  of  Bavaria.  Then  he  died,  in  1351, 
and  in  September  of  the  same  year  was  followed  by  his  brother 
Alberto. 

Can  Grande  II  was  called  the  Mad  Dog,  Cam's  Rabidus. 
He  was  a  hopeless  and  rapacious  ruler,  whom  Milan  and 
Mantua  continually  plotted  to  murder.  He  it  was  who  built 
the  Castel  Vecchio  in  Verona  to  ensure  his  safety.  There  he 
spent  his  life.  Yet  when  he  died  at  last  it  was  by  the  hand  of 
his  own  brother.  This  brother,  Can  Signorio,  got  himself 
proclaimed  Lord  of  Verona.  He  seems  to  have  beeinpbet 
ruler  than  his  predecessors  since  Can  Grande.  At  ahy  ra 
he  was  a  great  builder.  He  rebuilt  the  Ponte  delle  Navi,  an- 
built  the  fountain  of  the  Piazza  delle  Erbe,  thus  bringing 
drinking-water  into  the  city.  But  having  murdered  one 
brother  to  secure  his  own  succession,  he  murdered  anothe-  fo 
secure  the  succession  of  his  illegitimate  sons.  When  he  died 
in  1375  they  reigned  for  a  few  years,  but  the  elder  was 
assassinated  by  the  younger  in  1381,  and  the  younger  was 
himself  compelled  to  flee  the  city  in  1387,  when  he  gave  his 
town  to  the  King  of  the  Romans,  who  handed  it  over  to 
Visconti.  He  died  in  1388.  For  some  years  the  town 
remained  in  the  hands  of  Visconti,  and  then  came  into  the 
power  of  the  Carraresi,  but  in  1404  Venice,  having  disposed 
of  these,  claimed  dominion,  which  she  obtained  by  the  Act  of 
Surrender,  dated  22  June,  1405. 

II 

Such  in  the  merest  outline  is  the  story  of  Verona  up  to  the 
time  she  came  into  the  power  of  Venice.  Let  us  now  examine 
the  city  herself. 


VERONA  295 

The  city  of  Verona  is  in  form  exceedingly  like  to  the  city  of 

Venice.     That  is  to  say,  it  is  roughly  divided  into  two  parts 

.  by  the  river  Adige,  as  Venice  is  by  the  Grand  Canal,  and  the 

0  course  that  river  takes  through  the  city  is  very  similar  indeed 

j.  to  that  of  the  canal.     Roughly  it  may  be  said  to  form  the 

f    sign  2 .     And  just  as  the  busiest  parts  of  Venice  are  those  on 

the  great  peninsula  whose  beak  is  the  Rialto,  so   the  chief 

part  of  Verona  is  that  on  the  very  similar  peninsula  whose 

beak  is  the  Duomo.     Yet  in  Verona  as  in  Venice  both  sides 

of  the  water  have  been  continuously  occupied. 

If  we  were  to  begin  an  examination  with  the  oldest  ruins 
that  remain  to  Verona,  we  should  probably  find  ourselves  on 
the  Castel  S.  Pietro  or  in  the  ravine  that  separates  it  from  the 
river,  where  so  much  has  been  disinterred ;  but  we  shall  find 
all  the  antiquity  we  can  desire  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
modern  city,  where  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  Roman 
gjpomiments  to  be  found  in  Italy  is  still  standing,  substantially 
^  as  it  was  two  thousand  years  ago. 

J^  It  seems  impossible  to  decide  when  the  Arena  was  built, 
•  but  it  probably  dates  from  the  first  years  of  our  era.  The 
Arena  was  built  for  the  spectacle  so  dear  to  all  the  Latin 
peoples  of  the  fight  of  beasts,  of  one  beast  with  another,  of  the 
%:«  lion  with  the  bear,  of  the  tiger  with  the  elephant,  of  panthers 
and  crocodiles.  It  was  built  of  vast  blocks  of  stone,  quarried 
hard  by  in  the  mountains,  of  a  slightly  oblong  shape,  and 
,  capable  of  accommodating  some  20,000  persons.1  The  outer 
wall  here  consisted  of  four  stories,  but  of  these  but  three 
remain,  save  in  one  fragment,  the  rest  of  the  building  is  in 
really  an  excellent  state.  We  know  very  little  of  the  shows 
that  were  given  here.  We  hear  of  gladiatorial  contests  cele- 
brated here  in  the  time  of  Trajan,  and  of  rumours  of  fights 
between  men  and  beasts.  We  may  believe  that  S.  Fermo  and 
S.  Rustico  were  here  martyred  in  the  time  of  Diocletian  in 
303  a.d.,  when  they  were  burned  alive,  and,  when  the  fires 

1  The  Colosseum,  the  Flavian  amphitheatre,  is  said  to  have  been 
capable  of  seating  87,000  persons ;  the  Valencia  Bull  Ring  will  seat 
70,000. 


296  VENICE   AND  YENETIA 

failed,  beheaded.  But  soon  afterwards,  with  the  growth  of 
Christianity,  the  spectacle  of  the  amphitheatre  was  abolished. 
There  remained,  however,  this  vast  building,  which  only  time 
could  really  destroy.  We  hear  that  not  only  the  Goths  and 
the  Huns  spoiled  it,  but  that  Theodoric  encouraged  its 
destruction;  yet  without  avail.  There  it  stood,  to  be  used 
later  for  the  trial  by  fire  and  for  tournaments,  and  again  for 
public  executions.  Many  of  the  Paterani,  those  unfortunate 
heretics  of  one  of  whom  Villani  tells  so  pitiful  a  tale,  suffered 
death  by  burning  in  the  Arena  of  Verona. 

"In  the  said  year  1305,"  says  Villani,  "in  the  territory  of 
Novara  in  Lombardy,  there  was  one  Frate  Dolcino  which  was 
not  a  brother  of  any  regular  Order,  but  as  it  were  a  monk 
outside  the  Orders,  and  he  rose  up  and  led  astray  a  great 
company  of  heretics,  men  and  women  of  the  country  and  of 
the  mountains  of  small  account ;  and  the  said  Frate  Dolcino 
taught  and  preached  that  he  was  a  true  apostle  of  Christ,  and 
that  everything  ought  to  be  held  lovingly  in  common,  and 
women  also  were  to  be  held  in  common,  and  there  was  no  sin 
in  so  using  them.  And  many  other  foul  articles  of  heresy  he 
preached,  and  maintained  that  the  Pope  and  Cardinals  and 
the  other  rulers  of  Holy  Church  did  not  observe  their  duty 
nor  the  evangelic  life  j  and  that  he  ought  to  be  made  Pope. 
And  he,  with  a  following  of  more  than  3,000  men  and 
women,  abode  in  the  mountains,  living  in  common  after 
the  manner  of  beasts  ;  and  when  they  wanted  victuals  they 
took  and  robbed  wherever  they  could  find  any  j  and  thus  he 
reigned  for  two  years.  At  last  those  which  followed  the  said 
dissolute  life,  becoming  weary  of  it,  his  sect  diminished  much, 
and  through  want  of  victuals  and  by  reason  of  the  snow  he 
was  taken  by  the  Navarese  and  burnt,  with  Margaret  his 
companion,  and  with  many  other  men  and  women  which  with 
him  had  been  led  astray." 

That  is  one  picture.  A  far  other  is  presented  nearly  eighty 
years  later  by  the  gxtdXfesta  given  here  by  the  fratricide,  Antonio 
della  Scala,  when  a  vast  joust  was  arranged  in  honour  of  the 
beautiful  Samaritanada  Polenta,  his  betrothed.    For  centuries 


YERONA  297 

the  Arena  was  used  for  this  sort  of  pageant,  and  we  hear 
of  one  even  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Towards  the  end  of 
that  century,  in  1789,  the  first  bull-fight  was  held  here  in  the 
same  Arena  to  which  seven  years  before  thousands  had  flocked 
to  receive  the  blessing  of  Pius  VI.  In  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth  century  the  great  Napoleon  gave  a  bull-fight  here  and 
was  present  at  it  himself,  on  16  July,  1805,  feeling  like  Caesar. 
The  last  bull-fight  was  given  in  181 5.  But  with  all  its  history 
upon  it,  what  I  like  to  remember  best  about  the  Arena  is 
that  Eleanora  Duse  on  her  fourteenth  birthday  played  Juliet 
here  in  the  city  of  Juliet  in  the  light  of  a  few  lanterns,  and  so 
began  her  great  career. 

The  Arena,  now  surrounded  by  the  Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele, 
formerly  the  Piazza  Bra,  the  Prato,  or  meadow,  is  perhaps 
the  best  point  in  Verona  from  which  to  set  out  on  any  explora- 
tion of  the  city.  To  the  east  of  the  Arena  is  a  fragment — all 
that  is  left — of  the  Roman  wall,  and  the  Caserma  in  the 
Via  Pallone  behind  the  modern  Municipio  is  a  part  of  the 
medieval  wall  of  the  Visconti.  Just  without  this  wall,  in  a 
chapel  of  the  suppressed  Cappuccini  convent,  is  a  medieval 
sarcophagus  known  as  the  Tomb  of  Juliet.  It  has  no  interest 
at  all,  being  very  obviously  a  mere  traveller's  relic.  The 
supposed  house  of  the  Capulets  in  the  Via  Cappello,  a  far 
more  interesting  affair,  may  be  reached  from  the  Arena  by 
following  the  busy  Via  Nuova,  which  is  closed  to  wheeled 
traffic  and  where  the  best  shops  in  the  city  are  situated.  This 
street  may  be  compared  with  the  Calle  de  las  Sierpes  of 
Seville,  which  it  very  much  resembles.  The  Via  Nuova  ends 
at  the  Church  of  S.  Toma,  and,  just  beyond,  the  Via  Cappello 
crosses  it  north  and  south.  Just  here  on  the  left  is  the  so- 
called  house  of  the  Capulets,  and  whether  or  no  it  be  the 
home  of  Juliet,  it  is  an  interesting  specimen  of  a  medieval 
mansion,  now  fallen  to  very  humble  use. 

If  we  turn  back  from  Juliet's  house  and  follow  the  Via 
Cappello  northward,  in  a  few  steps  we  shall  come  into  the 
Piazza  of  Verona,  the  Piazza  delle  Erbe,  the  Roman  Forum, 
the  Medieval   Piazza,    and   the  modern  fruit  and  vegetable 


298  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

market.  Venice  has  here  left  her  mark  and  signature  in  the 
marble  column  at  the  north  end  of  the  Piazza,  which  bears 
the  Lion  of  S.  Mark,  a  modern  copy  of  an  older  work.  Here 
the  Piazza  is  closed  by  the  Palazzo  Maffei,  a  building  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  The  corner  palace  to  the  right,  the  Casa 
Mazzanti,  was  the  home  of  Alberto  della  Scala.  In  the  six- 
teenth century  it  was  adorned  with  frescoes  by  CavaUi,  a 
disciple  of  Giulio  Romano.  The  fountain  in  the  midst  of 
the  Piazza  was  rebuilt  there  by  Cansignorio  in  1370,  but  it 
originally  dates  from  the  time  of  Berengarius  I  at  any  rate. 
Close  by,  in  the  midst  of  the  Piazza,  is  the  Tribune,  set 
there  in  1307,  from  which  decrees  were  promulgated  and 
where  each  of  the  Scaligers  took  an  oath  on  his  succession. 
Opposite  are  two  palaces  with  faded  frescoes  by  Liberale  and 
Girolamo  dai  Libri.  At  the  corner  of  the  Via  Pelliciai  is  the 
Casa  dei  Mercanti,  begun  by  Alberto  della  Scala  in  1301, 
the  year  of  his  death.  Opposite  stands  the  fine  tower  of  the 
Lamberti,  but  who  the  Lamberti  were  or  who  built  this  tower 
is  a  mystery.  The  other  tower  in  the  Piazza  is  the  Torre  del 
Gardello,  built  in  1370  by  Cansignorio,  who  fixed  therein  the 
first  clock  in  Verona  to  strike  the  hours. 

From  the  picturesque  and  busy  Piazza  delle  Erbe  we  pass 
mto  the  deserted  Piazza  dei  Signori  under  the  archway  called 
La  Costa.  Deserted  as  it  seems,  it  is  crowded  with  the  ghosts 
of  the  Scaligers,  whose  centre  of  life  and  government  it  was. 
Their  palaces,  both  public  and  private,  surround  it,  and  it  is 
closed  by  their  Church  of  S.  Maria  Antica,  where  they  heard 
Mass  and  about  which  they  lie  in  their  splendid  tombs. 

In  the  centre  of  the  Piazza  is  a  modern  statue  of  Dante, 
wholly  without  interest.  But  the  first  palace  on  the  right  as 
we  come  from  the  Piazza  delle  Erbe  is  the  Palazzo  delle 
Ragione,  built  in  n  83  for  the  office  it  still  fulfils.  The  court- 
yard is  beautiful,  and  contains  a  magnificent  flight  of  steps  of 
the  fourteenth  century.  This  end  of  the  Piazza  is  closed  by 
the  Palazzo  de'  Giurisconsulti,  founded  in  1263,  but  rebuilt 
in  the  sixteenth  century. 

On  the  further  side  of  the  Via  Dante  rises  the  great  tower 


)      1  J      k      '  > 


>  »     »   *  t     "> 


>  >,    >  \  >  »    > ,  > 


VERONA  299 

of  the  Scaligers  beside  the  Palazzo  Tribunalizio,  which,  as  an 
inscription  tells  us,  n  Cansignorio  della  Scala,  Podesta  and 
Captain  of  the  People  from  Dec.  14,  1359,  to  Oct.  10,  1375, 
built  and  inhabited,  and  which  was  rebuilt  in  the  sixteenth 
century  by  the  Venetians."  The  courts  of  this  building  should 
all  be  examined  with  care,  as  they  are  by  far  the  most  ancient 
and  beautiful  parts  of  the  building  remaining. 

Opposite  stands  La  Loggia,  the  Palazzo  del  Consiglio,  pos- 
sibly built  by  Fra  Giocondo,  one  of  the  loveliest  Renaissance 
buildings  in  all  Italy.  It  was  built  by  the  Venetian  Govern- 
ment in  1497,  but  was  restored  in  1873.  Once  statues 
surmounted  the  facade,  and  busts  now  are  set  in  the  wall  in 
honour  of  distinguished  Veronesi.  Originally  this  palace  was 
intended  to  fill  the  whole  side  of  the  Piazza,  but  no  more  than 
we  see  was  ever  finished.  Under  the  archway  in  the  Via 
Mazzanti  is  a  fine  old  fountain  of  about  the  same  date  as  the 
palace,  built  of  the  fine  red  local  marble. 

Turning  now  back  to  the  Tribunale,  we  pass  down  the  way 
beside  it  to  the  Church  of  S.  Maria  Antica.  This  very  ancient 
church,  the  private  chapel  of  the  Scaligers,  dates  from  the  year 
1000  j  but  it  has  been  recently  though  reverently  restored. 
Without  are  the  monuments  of  the  famous  House  which  for 
so  long  ruled  in  Verona.  The  first  over  the  entrance  to  the 
church  is  that  of  Can  Grande,  who  ruled  in  Verona  from 
131 1  to  1329.  It  is  surmounted  by  an  equestrian  statue  of 
him  who  lies  in  the  sarcophagus,  the  greatest  of  his  race ;  and 
the  sarcophagus  itself  bears  his  recumbent  effigy  "  with  hands 
clasped  fast  as  if  still  in  prayer."  No  description  can  do 
justice  to  the  simplicity  and  beauty  of  the  tomb  or  to  that 
splendid  figure  in  armour  and  a-horseback  which  surmounts 
it:  his  horse,  too,  clad  for  battle;  his  great  sword  in  his 
hand,  and  his  helm  flung  back  upon  his  shoulders.  His  face 
is  seen  as  he  turns,  smiling,  as  toward  some  comrade  who  had 
gone  up  with  him  against  Vicenza,  which  he  suddenly  sees 
taken  by  his  cunning. 

The  other  tombs,  four  in  all,  surround  the  little  churchyard, 
which,  with  them,  is  all  fenced  in  with  a  marvellous  grille  of 


3oo  VENICE  AND  YENETIA 

wrought  iron,  as  fine  as  anything  of  the  kind  in  Europe. 
There  we  see  Mastino  I,  the  founder  of  the  family ;  Alberto, 
who  built  so  much,  and  died  in  1301  ;  Mastino  II,  and  last 
of  all,  his  son  Cansignorio,  who  built  his  own  tomb  and  set 
about  it  that  crowd  of  heroes  and  virtues.  Nor  must  we 
forget  to  note  the  magnificent  wall  tomb  of  Giovanni  della 
Scala,  who  died  in  1350,  close  to  Can  Grande's  monument.1 

We  follow  the  street  that  leads  straight  out  of  the  Piazza  dei 
Signori,  past  S.  Maria  Antica,  to  the  Church  of  S.  Anastasia. 
This  church,  whose  apse  is  almost  a  bastion  thrust  into  the 
rapid  Adige,  was  built  with  the  assistance  of  Alberto  della 
Scala  by  the  Dominicans  in  1261.  It  is  a  fine  and  even  an 
unforgettable  example  of  those  Gothic  churches  in  brick 
which  are  so  noble  in  these  North  Italian  cities,  and  not  least 
in  Verona.  Its  fine  portal  is  of  marble,  and  is  decorated  with 
reliefs  of  scenes  in  the  life  of  S.  Peter  Martyr  and  with  a  fresco 
in  the  lunette  over  the  door,  of  the  fourteenth  century.  Within, 
the  church  is  spacious  and  noble,  borne  by  twelve  columns.  At 
the  foot  of  the  first  column  on  the  left  is  an  antique  capital,  used 
as  a  holy-water  basin,  borne  by  a  gobbo,  or  dwarf,  remarkably 
grotesque,  and  attributed  to  the  father  of  Paolo  Veronese.  On 
the  right  by  the  first  altar  is  the  sixteenth-century  monument 
to  the  Venetian  General  Fregoso.  Over  the  third  altar  are 
some  frescoes  by  Caroto  and  an  Entombment  attributed  to 
Liberale.  Over  the  fourth  altar  is  a  picture  of  S.  Martin  by 
Caroto — one  of  his  latest  works.  In  the  adjoining  early 
Renaissance  Chapel  of  the  Crucifix  is  a  fourteenth-century 
group  of  the  Entombment  in  painted  terra-cotta  and  a  fine 
wooden  Crucifix  of  the  fifteenth  century. 

Close  to  this  chapel,  over  the  next  altar,  is  a  fine  picture  of 
the  Madonna  and  Child  with  SS.  Augustine  and  Thomas 
Aquinas  by  Francesco  Morone,  and  near  by  a  fine  Gothic 
tomb. 

We  now  come  to  the  chapels  about  the  choir.    The  second, 

1  Ruskin,  "  Stones  of  Venice,"  vol.  iii,  cap.  ii,  §  53-56,  has  described 
these  tombs  in  his  own  inimitable  way,  once  and  for  all.  The  reader  is 
referred  to  his  splendid  prose. 


VERONA  301 

the  Cavalli  Chapel  on  the  right,  contains  some  interesting 
frescoes,  possibly  by  Altichieri,  of  Knights  of  the  Cavalli  family 
kneeling  before  the  Virgin  and  Child,  and  other  subjects.  The 
Pellegrini  Chapel  hard  by  has  some  remarkable  terra-cotta 
reliefs  by  some  Florentine  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Here  of 
old  was  to  be  seen  the  beautiful  fresco  of  S.  George  by 
Vittore  Pisano.  It  was,  in  1901,  I  think,  removed  to  the 
sacristy,  and  then  in  1902  replaced.  Thus  are  priceless 
things  fooled  with  even  to-day  in  Verona.  But  worse  is  this  : 
that  now  it  is  to  be  found  neither  in  the  sacristy  nor  in  the 
chapel.  Of  course,  it  may  have  been  taken  to  the  Pinacoteca, 
which  is  at  present  in  very  great  confusion.  But  the  priest  in 
charge  at  S.  Anastasia  swore  he  knew  nothing  of  any  such 
work,  and  was  profuse  in  shruggings  and  extended  hands. 
This,  of  old,  I  have  learnt  to  be  a  sign  that  knowledge  is  not 
to  be  imparted,  rather  than  that  your  shrugger  is  himself 
ignorant.  I  shall  be  exceedingly  glad  to  hear  that  Pisanello's 
fresco  is  still  in  Verona ;  but  I  confess  I  have  not  much  hope 
of  it.  It  was  incomparably  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most 
interesting  work  of  art  in  S.  Anastasia,  and  the  church  does 
not  seem  itself  without  it. 

The  choir,  with  its  fine  intarsia  stalls,  has  nothing  to  show 
us  but  a  painted  monument  of  General  Sarego,  said  to  be  the 
work  of  a  pupil  of  Donatello.  Close  by  in  the  Lavagnoli 
Chapel  are  some  frescoes  of  the  life  of  Christ  by  Benaglio, 
a  Veronese  painter  of  the  fifteenth  century. 

In  the  left  transept  is  a  fine  picture  by  Liberale  of  S.  Mary 
Magdalen  with  the  two  SS.  Catherine,  and  some  early  frescoes. 
Nothing  else  of  interest  remains  in  the  church. 

Without,  beside  the  church  over  a  gateway,  is  the  marble 
canopied  tomb  of  Guglielmo  da  Castelbarco,  who,  friend  as  he 
was  of  the  Scaligers,  helped  to  build  S.  Anastasia. 

From  the  Piazza  di  S.  Anastasia  we  proceed  up  the  Via 
del  Duomo  to  the  Cathedral,  past  the  little  oratory  of  S.  Peter 
Martyr,  now  part  of  the  Convent  of  S.  Anastasia,  and  built  by 
the  Knights  of  Brandenburg,  whom  Can  Grande  II  called  into 
Verona  in  1353. 


302  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

The  cathedral  church  of  Verona,  according  to  tradition, 
dates  from  the  eighth  century,  but  there  is  i'ttle  or  nothing 
there  now  that  can  be  earlier  than  the  twelfth  century.  The 
choir,  apse,  side  door,  and  facade  are  of  that  date,  the  latter 
having  pointed  windows  of  a  later  time,  but  the  nave,  and 
indeed  the  church  as  a  whole,  is  a  Gothic  building  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  The  apse,  interesting  and  beautiful  both 
within  and  without,  the  side  door,  and  the  main  facade,  with 
its  fine  portal  resting  on  gryphons,  and  its  curious  statues,  two  of 
which  on  either  side  the  door  are  thought  to  represent  Roland 
and  Oliver,  are  by  far  the  more  splendid  parts  of  the  building. 

Within  the  church  is  spacious,  and  is  borne  by  eight  red 
marble  pillars.  Here  perhaps  the  most  charming  detail  is  the 
marble  rood-loft  designed  by  Sanmicheli,  with  its  fine  Crucifix 
of  bronze  by  Giambattista  of  Verona.  The  church  contains 
but  two  pictures  of  any  merit :  an  Adoration  of  the  Magi  by 
Liberale  da  Verona  over  the  second  altar  on  the  right,  with 
wings  by  Giolfino,  and  an  Assumption  by  Titian  over  the  first 
altar  on  the  left.  We  are  largely  ignorant  of  the  history  of 
this  picture.  According  to  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  it  belongs 
to  the  same  period  as  the  Ecce  Homo  in  Verona,  that  is  to 
say,  1543,  but  Dr.  Gronau  would  place  it,  and  I  agree  with 
him,  some  twenty  years  earlier,  and  compare  it  with  the 
Vatican  picture. 

At  the  end  of  the  right  aisle  is  a  lovely  Gothic  tomb, 
known  as  the  tomb  of  S.  Agata.  S.  Agata  is,  however, 
buried  at  Catania,  and  only  a  few  relics  lie  here. 

The  ancient  Baptistery  of  Verona,  S.  Giovanni  in  Fonte, 
is  reached  from  the  choir  by  a  passage  on  the  left.  It  is 
a  fine  and  interesting  building  of  the  twelfth  century,  to 
which  date  the  beautiful  sculptured  font  also  belongs.  The 
Romanesque  cloisters  to  the  north  of  the  main  church  should 
by  no  means  be  missed.  Beyond  them,  to  the  east,  stands 
the  Vescovado  with  its  chapel,  where  are  three  works  by 
Liberale.  To  the  west  stands  the  Palazzo  dei  Canonici 
with  a  fine  library  of  manuscripts. 

The  Vescovado  abuts  on  the  river,  just  hiding  the  Duomo 


•  J 

*  ,   »5    >    ■>    >    > 


VERONA  303 

from  it,  but  if  we  proceed  round  the  Palazzo  dei  Canonici  we 
shall  find  ourselves  on  the  Lung'  Adige,  and  turning  left  along 
it  come  in  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  Palazzo  Ottolini,  behind 
which  stands  the  Church  of  S.  Eufemia.  This  church  is  a 
Gothic  work  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  contains  a  rather 
fine  Madonna  and  Child  by  Moretto.  The  cloisters  were 
designed  by  Sanmicheli  and  are  worth  seeing,  while  the  tomb 
on  the  left  of  the  main  door  is  by  the  same  master. 

From  S.  Eufemia  we  make  our  way  past  the  Palazzo  Piatti 
and  the  Palazzo  Guerrieri  to  the  Porta  Borsari,  a  late  Roman 
gate  of  Verona,  built  in  265.  Beyond  opens  the  Corso  Cavour, 
by  which  we  come  first,  on  the  right,  to  the  Church  of  S. 
Lorenzo,  a  small  but  splendid  Romanesque  building  of  per- 
haps the  eleventh  century,  with  round  towers  at  either  flank 
of  the  facade  and  an  interesting  but  restored  interior,  then 
on  the  same  side  to  two  Sanmicheli  palaces — Palazzo  Porta- 
lupi  and  Palazzo  Canossa — and  at  last  to  the  great  fortress  of 
Can  Grande  II,  the  Castel  Vecchio  with  its  fine  bridge  across 
the  Adige.  Here  Can  Grande  II  shut  himself  up  and  spent 
his  last  years  in  its  safety. 

Passing  the  Castel  we  come  into  the  Rigaste  S.  Zeno  by 
the  river,  and  presently  turning  to  the  left  just  before  we  come 
to  a  barracks  we  find  ourselves  in  the  Piazza  di  S.  Zeno  before 
S.  Zeno's  Church. 

S.  Zeno  Maggiore  is  by  far  the  most  interesting  church 
in  Verona,  and  is  one  of  the  finest  Romanesque  buildings 
in  Italy.  It  is  said  to  have  been  founded  by  Pepin,  son  of 
Charlemagne,  and  though  this  might  seem  far-fetched,  much 
leads  us  to  think  that  it  was  begun  about  the  year  900.  The 
whole  church  in  its  quietness,  simplicity,  and  isolation  is  full 
of  charm,  and  above  anything  else  in  Verona  might  seem 
to  figure  the  place  for  us 

One  of  the  loveliest  features  in  this  altogether  lovely  church 
is  the  main  portal  borne  by  columns  resting  on  the  backs 
of  lions  carved  from  the  local  red  marble  of  Verona.  It  is 
adorned,  too,  with  a  splendid  series  of  reliefs  that  seem  to 
be  twelfth-century  work.     Here  Theodoric,  the  magician  of 


3o4  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

Verona,  is  riding  "  headlong  to  the  devil,"  and  over  the  doors 
we  see  the  twelve  months  figured.  The  doors  themselves  are 
covered  with  reliefs  in  bronze  from  the  life  of  S.  Zeno. 

Within  we  find  ourselves  in  a  flat-roofed  basilica  of  various 
dates,  the  nave  as  we  see  it  being  of  the  twelfth,  the  uplifted 
choir  of  the  thirteenth  century. 

The  nave  contains  little  of  interest :  an  octagonal  font,  a 
fourteenth-century  fresco  of  S.  Zeno,  a  holy- water  stoup  con- 
trived out  of  an  antique  capital,  an  old  vase  of  porphyry 
near  30  feet  in  circumference,  and  a  fine  Giottesque  Crucifix, 
while  everywhere  are  remains  of  frescoes  that  have  now 
vanished. 

On  the  beautiful  lofty  choir  screen  are  thirteenth-century 
figures  in  marble  of  Our  Lord  and  the  Apostles,  and  below 
ornaments  in  a  low  relief.  To  the  right,  high  up  at  the  foot 
of  the  steps  to  the  choir,  is  a  marble  figure  of  S.  Zeno  painted. 

Behind  the  High  Altar  we  come  to  the  great  treasure  of  the 
church,  though  splendid  as  it  is  it  is  not  so  precious  as  the 
church  itself — a  splendid  altarpiece  by  Mantegna  of  Madonna 
enthroned  with  her  Divine  Son  among  many  angels  and 
S.  Peter,  S.  Paul,  S.  John,  S.  Zeno,  S.  John  Baptist,  S. 
Gregory,  S.  Lawrence,  and  S.  Benedict.  There  is  nothing 
finer  in  Verona. 

In  the  great  crypt  S.  Zeno  lies,  in  a  humble  modern  tomb. 

S.  Zeno  was  a  monastic  church  of  the  Order  of  S.  Benedict, 
very  famous  through  all  Northern  Italy.  All  that  remains  of 
the  monastery,  however,  is  the  great  tower  and  the  cloisters, 
which  are  worth  seeing. 

On  our  way  back  into  Verona,  for  here  at  S.  Zeno  we  are 
on  the  verge  of  the  city,  we  turn  out  of  the  Via  Giuseppe  into 
the  Vicolo  Lungo  S.  Bernardino  and  so  come  to  the  church 
of  that  name.  We  enter  the  church  through  a  cloister,  for 
the  place  is  no  longer  a  Franciscan  convent  but  a  boys' 
school.  S.  Bernardino  is,  as  we  might  suppose,  a  building 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  for  the  most  part  it  contains  little 
of  interest.  It  is  worth  a  visit,  however,  if  only  to  see  the 
Cappella  Pellegrini,  built  in  1557  by  Sanmicheli.     Another 


VERONA  305 

and  a  greater  monument  by  the  same  master  stands  not  far 
away — I  mean  the  tremendous  Porta  Palio  at  the  end  of  the 
Stradale  di  Porta  Palio. 

We  now  return  to  the  Arena,  and  set  out  to  explore  that 
part  of  the  city  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Adige  which  is  known 
as  Veronetta.  On  our  way,  however,  before  crossing  the  Ponte 
delle  Navi,  we  shall  visit  the  Church  of  S.  Fermo  Maggiore. 

S.  Fermo,  which  was  built  early  in  the  fourteenth  century 
for  the  Benedictines,  was  later  given  to  the  Franciscans. 
To-day  it  is  served  by  seculars.  The  facade  is  beautiful,  and 
there  we  see  the  tomb  of  Can  Grande's  physician,  Fra  Castoro, 
with  its  old  frescoes. 

Within  the  church  has  been  much  modernized,  but  it  still 
preserves  a  few  old  frescoes  of  the  Veronese  school  and  even 
remnants  of  the  fine  work  of  Pisanello.  Nothing  within  the 
church,  however,  is  so  fine  as  the  church  itself,  which  can  best 
be  seen  from  the  Ponte  delle  Navi. 

We  cross  the  bridge  and  turning  to  the  right  come  to  the 
Palazzo  Pompei,  which  contains  the  Picture  Gallery.  No 
detailed  account  can  be  given  of  the  precious  works  here,  for 
the  whole  Gallery  is  at  present  in  confusion  and  without  a 
catalogue.  The  custode^  however,  is  very  intelligent  and  help- 
ful in  every  way,  and  will  do  his  best  for  the  visitor,  who 
should  insist  on  seeing  the  fine  Madonna  and  Child  with 
saints  by  Mantegna  here,  the  works  of  the  early  Veronese 
masters,  which  are  very  charming,  and  the  fine  Paolo  Veronese 
Portrait  of  Guarienti. 

From  the  Pinacoteca  you  turn  back  up-stream  and  follow 
the  Via  Scrimiari  as  far  as  the  second  cross-road,  there  turn 
left  and  you  are  before  the  Church  of  S.  Tommaso,  where  is  a 
fine  picture  of  S.  Sebastian,  S.  Roch,  and  Job  by  Girolamo 
dai  Libri.1 

Turning  back  from  S.  Tommaso,  which  of  old  stood  on  an 
island  in  the  river,  along  the  way  we  have  come,  but  keeping 

1  Another  work  by  the  same  master,  as  well  as  one  by  Veronese  and 
another  by  Bonsignori,  is  to  be  seen  in  S.  Paolo  di  Campo  Marzo  close  to 
the  Gallery. 
x 


3o6  VENICE  AND  VENETIA 

straight  on  down  the  Via  Disciplina,  instead  of  turning  into 
Via  Scrimiari,  we  come  presently,  a  little  way  to  the  left,  to  the 
Church  of  SS.  Nazaro  and  Celso.  This  is  a  Gothic  church, 
rebuilt  in  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Its  chief 
interest  for  us  is  two  works  by  Montagna — a  Pieta  and  Four 
Saints.  Here,  too,  is  an  altarpiece  by  Bonsignori  and  some 
injured  frescoes  by  his  master. 

We  now  return  along  the  Via  Muro  Padri  past  the  mys- 
teriously lovely  gardens  of  the  Giusti  Palace,  which  one  is 
always  foolish  to  pass  by  without  a  visit,  and  so  at  last  come 
to  S.  Maria  in  Organo,  a  very  old  church,  rebuilt  by  San- 
micheli.  Here  are  frescoes  by  Francesco  Morone,  an  altar- 
piece  and  some  portraits  by  the  same  master,  and  a  Madonna 
and  Child  by  Girolamo  dai  Libri. 

S.  Maria  in  Organo  used  to  stand  on  the  brink  of  the 
Adige.  In  those  days,  not  so  long  ago,  for  it  was  only  in 
1895  tnat  tne  canal  was  filled  up,  S.  Tommaso  with  all  its 
quarter  was  an  island. 

It  is  useless  to  climb  up  to  Castel  S.  Pietro,  for  the  view 
is  not  notably  finer  than  that  to  be  had  from  the  Giusti  ter- 
races under  the  mysterious  cypresses,  and  there  is  nothing 
else  to  see  there.  It  is  better  and  very  pleasant  to  follow  the 
low  road  by  the  river  past  the  old  Roman  theatre,  past  the 
Ponte  Pietra,  the  oldest  bridge  in  Verona,  and  taking  the  Via 
Alessio  at  last  to  come  to  S.  Giorgio  in  Braida.  This  is  another 
old  church  rebuilt  by  Sanmicheli,  and  it  is  now  as  quiet  and 
delicious  a  little  picture  gallery  as  is  to  be  found  in  all  the 
Veneto. 

Here  is  a  fine  picture  by  Girolamo  dai  Libri  of  the 
Madonna  enthroned  between  SS.  Zeno  and  Lorenzo  Gius- 
tincani  with  three  angels  at  Her  feet  playing  music  for  Her 
delight.  Close  by  is  a  fine  Moretto,  the  Madonna  with  the 
two  Maries,  a  cool  and  lovely  piece  of  painting,  and  best  of 
all,  perhaps,  is  the  Paolo  Veronese,  the  martyrdom  of  S. 
George  which  stands  over  the  High  Altar. 

And  it  is  not  any  picture  or  church,  nor  the  great  palaces 
about  the  old  Piazza,   nor  even  the    Arena  itself  that  come 


VERONA  307 

back  into  my  mind  when  I  hear  the  name  of  Verona,  but 
those  gardens  of  the  Conti  Giusti,  where  I  have  spent  so 
many  evenings  under  the  cypresses  that  are  as  beautiful 
there  as  those  in  Hadrian's  garden  at  Tivoli.  Here  best 
of  all  I  have  found  my  desire,  and  recalled  in  my  heart 
the  Italy  that  is  my  fatherland.  For  the  majestic  and 
melancholy  cypresses  of  those  gardens  have  seen  all  the 
glory  and  tears,  the  victories,  the  defeats,  the  captivities  of 
Verona  from  of  old  till  now,  and  in  their  endurance  they 
seem  to  demand  of  us  just  patience  with  all  this  sordid  and 
brutal  modern  world,  and  in  their  solemn  beauty  to  remind 
us  of  all  that  which  cannot  pass  away.  Here  in  the  Veneto, 
on  the  eve,  perhaps,  of  leaving  Italy,  it  is  some  such  re- 
assurance we  need,  that  we  may  recall  to  mind  the  great 
Latin  people  which  has  created  and  preserved  Europe  ,and 
given  us  all  that  is  worth  having  in  the  world,  and  sha-fl  yet 
if  need  be — and  there  will  be  need — secure  it  to  tfs  again. 
Here  on  the  frontier  let  us  remember  it.  , 


INDEX 


Acre,  30 

Adalbati,  the,  273 

Adige,  the  river,  3 

Adria,  5 

Aias,  68 

Alaric,  his  invasion  of  Italy,  6,  29, 

243,  288 
Alberoni,  209,  213 
Alberti,    Duccio    degli,    tomb    of, 

135 

Alboin,  in  Verona,  289 

Aldo,  191 

Alexander   III,    Pope,   in  Venice, 

109,  181 
Alexander  IV,  Pope,  237,  254 
Alexandria,  20,  45,  215 
Alexis,  Emperor,  27 
Altichiero  da  Padua,  154 

His  work  in  Padua,  262,  263 
in  Verona,  301 
Alticlini,  the,  244 
Altinum,  history  of,  5,  IX,  14,  206, 

221,  244 
Amadi,  Angelo,  117 
Amadi,  Francesco,  117 
Amalteo,   Pomponio,  his   work   in 

Treviso,  227 
Anafesto,  Doge,  16 
Anastasius,  Antipope,  96 
Ancona,  181 

Angelico,  Fra,  82,  122,  228 
Antenor,  243 
Antonello  da  Messina,  his  work  in 

Venice,  156 
His  work  in  Vicenza,  282 
Antonio  da   Murano,  his  work   in 

Venice,  140 
Antonio  da  Negroponte,  Frat\  his 

work  in  Venice,  102 
Antonio    da    Ponte,   his  work    in 

Venice,  73,  114 
Antwerp  Gallery,  136 


Aquileia,  5 

Bishop  of,  45 

Sieges  of,  8, 10,  117,  220,  244,  289 

Patriarchate  of,  35,  43 
Aretino,  Pietro,  92,  191 
Armenian  Convent,  Venice,  183 
Arqua,  Petrarch  at,  257,  264-270 
Ascension  Day  in  Venice,  26,  100, 

107,  180-182 
Asolo,  90,  236 
Assisi,  Giotto  in,  251,  253 
Athens,  99 

Atrium,  origin  of  the,  52 
Attila,  his  invasion  of  Italy,  9,  II, 

206,  220,  221,  243 
Augustus  Caesar,  5,  287 
Avanzo,   Jacopo    d',   his  work   in 

Padua,  262,  263 
Azzo,  Alberto,  273 

Baccio  da  Montelupo,  his  work  in 

Venice,  134 
Badoer,  Elena,  117 
Badoeri,  the,  69,  ill 
Baglioni,  Orazio,  statue  of,  104 
Bagni  di  Lucca,  271 
Balbi,  Zanetta,  191 
Baldwin,  King  of  Jerusalem,  27 
Baone,  270 

Barattiere,  Niccolo,  91 
Barbarelli,  Giorgio,  see  Giorgione 
Barbarigo  II,  Doge,  portrait  of,  192 
Barbarigo,  Agostino,  80 
Barbaro,  Marcantonio,  villa  of,  236 
Barozzi,  the,  117 
Basaiti,  Marco.his  work  in  Padua,  263 

His  work  in  Venice,   135,  147, 
159,  192 
Basil,  Emperor,  180 
Bassano,  236 

History  of,  33,  36,  160,  225,  238, 
245,  247,  248 


309 


3io 


VENICE  AND  VENETIA 


Bassano — continued 
Sights  of,  239-241 
Bassano,    Francesco,   his  work   in 
Bassano,  239 
His  work  in  Venice,  128,  170 
Bassano,  Jacopo,  his  work  in  Bas- 
sano, 239-241 
His  work  in  Cittadella,  241 
in  Venice,  172 
in  Vicenza,  282 
Bassano,  Leandro,  his  work  in  Bas- 
sano, 239,  240 
His  work  in  Venice,  78,  81,  112, 
129 
Bastiani,    Lorenzo,    his    work    in 

Venice,  196 
Battaglia,  264 
Bebo  da  Volterra,  131,  132 
Beccaruzzi,  Francesco,  his  work  in 
Treviso,  229 
His  work  in  Venice,  124 
Beethoven,  233,  234 
Bellano  of  Padua,  262 
Bellini,  Gentile,  his  work  in  Venice, 

76,  155,  156 
Bellini,  Giovanni,  his  work  in  the 
Academy,   Venice,    57,    88, 
126,  155 
His  work  in  Berlin,  190 
in  the  Doge's  Palace,  Venice, 

76,8i 
in  Venetian  churches,  96,  102, 
no,  113, 126,  134,  171,  190, 
192 
in  Vicenza,  282 
School  of,  149, 151, 153, 156-162, 
227,  229,  234,  279 
Bellini,  Jacopo,  his  work  in  Venice, 

155,  255 
Bellini,  Nicolosa,  255 
Belluno,  223,  224,  237,  245,  292 
Belmont,  236 

Bembo,  Pietro,  Asolani,  236 
In  Venice,  191 
Tomb  of,  262 
Benaglio,  his  work  in  Verona,  301 
Benedict  II,  Pope,  96 
Benoni,    Giuseppe,    his    work    in 

Venice,  147 
Benvenuto,  Girolamo  di,  150 
Benvenuto  da  Imola  in  Muratori> 

250  note 
Benvenuto  da  Mola,  on  Giotto,  251 


Berengarius  I,  298 

Berenson,  Bernhard,  on  Giotto,  251 

On  Lotto,  161 
Bergamesco,  Guglielmo,  his  work 

in  Venice,  76,  190 
Bergamo,  Attila  overthrows,  221, 

289 
Berlin,  Gallery  at,  161,  190 
Bernini,  school  of,  103 
Bevagna,  epistle  of,  207 
Bibboni,  Cecco,  131,  132 
Biscaro,  Gazzetta  di   Treviso ,  228 

note 
Bissolo,    Francesco,   his    work    in 
Treviso,  227 
His  work  in  Venice,  76,  103,  159, 
171 
Boccaccini,  Boccaccio,  his  work  in 

Venice,  108,  193 
Boccaccio,  Giovanni,  Chaucer's  debt 
to,  149 
His  friendship  with  Petrarch,  257, 

267 
On  della  Scala,  293 
Bocconio,  Marino,  conspiracy  of,  69 
Bologna,  223,  248,  271 

S.  Antony  at,  260,  26 1 
Bonazzo,  Giovanni,  93 
Bonconvento,  293 
Bondumiero,  Andrea,  211 
Bonifazio,  his  work  in  Venice,  128, 
162 
Pupils  of,  164,  239 
Bonsignori,   his  work    in  Verona, 

305  note,  306 
Bordone,  Paris,  his  work  in  Treviso, 
225-227,  229 
His  work  in  Venice,  100,  160,  164 
Borgo  Angarano,  241 
Bragadino,  Marc  Antonio,  tomb  of, 

103 
Brandenburg,  Knights  of,  301 
Bregno,  Battista,  his  work  in  Tre- 
viso, 227 
Bregno,  Lorenzo,  his  work  in  Tre- 
viso, 226,  227 
His  work  in  Venice,  104,  134 
Brenner  Pass,  the,  1,  285 
Brenta,  the  river,  3 
Brentettone,  Canale,  236 
Brescia,  223,  287 
Fall  of,  34,  225 
Brocardo,  Antonio,  161 


INDEX 


3ii 


Brondolo,  18 

Brossano,  Francesco  da,  268 
Brown,  Horatio,  his  works  on  the 
Venetian  Republic,  17  note, 
143  note 
Quoted,  143,  145,  222 
Bruno,  Francesco,  265 
Bua,  Mercurio,  229 
Bucentauro,  the,  100,   121,  181 
Buda  Pesth,  161 
Bullones,  Martin  de,  259 
Buon,  Bartolommeo,  his    work    in 

Venice,  75,  86,  90,  125 
Buonconsiglio,  his  work  in  Venice, 
128 
His  work  in  Vicenza,  283 
Buono  da  Malamocco,  46 
Burano,  187,  200,  205 
History  of,  13,  14 
Lace  school  at,  202-205 
Buratti,    Benedetto,    his    work    in 

Venice,  172 
Byrd,  234 

Byron,  Lord,  in  Venice,  1 79,  183, 
184 
On  I  Cappucini,  271 
Byzantium,  relations  with  Venice, 
15,  16,  18,  27-29,  37,  154 

Cadore,  102 

Caerano  di  S.  Marco,  236 

Cagliari,  31 

Caldiero,  284 

Caloprini,  the,  20 

Camaldolesi,  the,  190 

Cambrai,   League  of,  78,  80,  104, 

152,  240 
Campagna,  his  work  in  Venice,  108, 

ill,  120,  133,  170 
Campagnola,  Domenico,  258 
Canaletto,  his  work  at  Windsor,  89 

His  work  in  Venice,  168 
Candia,  115 
Candiani,  the,  20 
Cannae,  battle  of,  243,  286 
Canova,  his  work  in  Bassano,  240 

Tomb  of,  136 
Capello,  Andrea,  portrait  of,  166 
Capello,  Bianca.  95,  203 
Cappelletti,  the,  290,  297 
Cappello,  Vittorio,  portrait  of,  130 
Caprioli,  229 
Caroldo,  Maria,  144 


Carole,  14 

Caroto,  his  work  in  Verona,  300 
Carpaccio,  Vittore,  his  work  in  the 
Accademia,  76,  157 
His  work  in  Venetian  churches, 

101,114,  152,  216 
Position  and  influence   of,    149, 
151,  156,  158,  279 
Carraresi,  the,  238,  255 
In  Cittadella,  241 
In  Padua,  244-249 
In  Vicenza,  276 
see  Francesco  Jacopo,and  Marsilio 
da  Carrara 
Cassiodorus,  on  Venice,  12 
Castelfranco,  160,  192,  200,  230-236 
Birthplace  of  Giorgione,  231-234 
Castellani,  the,  faction  of,  143 
Castello,  18 
Castoro,  Fra,  305 
Catania,  302 
Catena,  his  work  in  Venice,  76,  81, 

101,  128,  158 
Catullus  at  Sermione,  5 
Cavalli,  Jacopo,  his  work  in  Verona, 
298 
Tomb  of,  104 
Ceneda,  248 
Cephalonia,  193 
Charlemagne,  Emperor,  in  Italy,  9, 

17,  221,  244,  290 
Charles  V,  portrait  of,  239 
Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  149 
Chigi-Giovanelli,  Principessa  Maria, 

203 
Chioggia,  early  history  of,   14,  18, 
32 
School  of  lace  at,  204,  215 
War  of,  93,  209,  212,   215-217, 
221,  247,  293 
Chopin,  233 

Cicogna,  Doge  Pasquale,  portrait  of, 
80 
Tomb  of,  120 
Cima  da  Conegliano,  his  work  in 
Berlin,  190 
His  work  in  Venice,  76,  100,  124, 

141,.  1 57 
in  Vicenza,  282 
Pupils  of,    161 
Cipoilino,  pillars  of,  62 
Cittadella,  241 
Claude,  274 


312 


VENICE   AND  VENETIA 


Claudian,  on  the  fall  of  the  Empire 

8 
On  Verona,  285,  289 
Claudius  II,  287 
Clement  IX,  Pope,  144 
Cleomenes  of  Sparta,  243 
Coimbra,  259 
Colleoni,    Bartolommeo,  statue  of, 

103 
Cologne,  157 
Columbini      of      Siena,       Blessed 

Giovanni,  144 
Como,  223 
Concordia,  II 
Conegliano,  158 
Conradin,  in  Verona,  292 
Constantine,  Emperor,  58,  186 

Besieges  Verona,  287,  288 
Constantinople,    fall    of,    29,    151, 

Greek  Empire,  restored  in,  30 
Intercourse  with  Venice,  21,  27, 
180  ;  see  also  Byzantium 
Contarini,  Alessandro,  tomb  of,  125, 

262 
Contarini,    Doge,    tomb    of,    115, 

125 

Contarini  del  Zaffo,  the,  legend  of, 

1 18-120 
Contenti,  Lodovico,  210 
Corfu,  115 
Cornaro,  Caterina, Queen  of  Cyprus, 

in,  236,  262 
Corner,  Doge  Marco,  118 

Tomb  of,  104 
Correr  Collection,  128 
Cortona,  Aurelio,  139 
Council  of  Ten,  the,  creation  of,  24, 

69 
Crasso,  Niccold,  142 
Cremona,  292 
Crespignaga,  236 
Crete,  29 

Cristoforo,  Doge,  73,  75 
Crociferi,  the,  in  Venice,  120,  146 
Cromwell,  Oliver,  69 
Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  on  Giotto, 

250-253 
On  Titian,  124,  302 
Crusades,  the,  wealth  gained  by,  21, 

27-29 
Curzola,  battle  of,  26,  30,  68,  93, 

180 


Cyclades,  the,  29 
Cyprus,  103,  236 

Dalmatia,  capture  of,  27,  29 

Dukedom  of,  26 

Hungarian  claim  on,  246 
Dalmatian  pirates,  raids  of,  25-27, 

98,  180 
Dandolo,  Doge  Andrea,  30,  64,  68 

His  tomb,  65 
Dandolo,  Doge  Enrico,  29,  58 
Dandolo,  Doge  Francesco,  70 
Dandolo,  Geronimo,  30 
D'Annunzio,  Gabriele,  79,  265 
Dante,  in  Padua,  151,  250,  253,  257 

In  Verona,  151,  285,  292,  298 

Inferno,  238,  250,  291 

Paradiso,  292 
Dennistoun,  James,   Dukes  of  Ur- 

bino,  121  note 
Desiderio  da  Settignano,  64 
Diocletian,  295 
D' Israeli,  Benjamin,  21,  265 
Dogaressas,the,  protect  lace-makers, 
203 

Sumptuary  laws  for,  203 
Doges,  the  coronation  of,  96 

Election  of,  16,  19-24 

Portraits  of,  80-82 

Tombs  of,  103 
Doge's  Palace,  Venice,   Bridge   of 
Sighs,  73 

Interior  of,  76-83 

Its  courtyard  and  staircase,  75?  76 

Its  erection,  68-70,  73 

Its  facades,  69-75 

Its  gates,  75 

Its  predecessors,  68 

Its  sculpture,  74 

Its  site,  67 

Sala  del  Maggior  Consiglio,  70, 

73,  7S.8i.  155 
Suffers  by  fire,  73,  76 
Dolcino,  Frate,  296 
Dolfino,  Pietro,  Chronicle  of,  68 
Dona,  the,  121 

Donatello,  his  statue  of  Gattamelata, 
258 
His  work  in  Padua,  155,  262 

in  Venice,  135 
Influence  of,  256,  301 
Donato,  Doge   Francesco,   portrait 
of,  79 


INDEX 


3i3 


Doria,  Lamba,  68 
Doria,  Luciano,  31 
Doria,  Paganino,  31 
Doria,  Pietro,  31,  35,  247 
Douglas,  H.  A.,  118  note,  251 

"Venice  on  Foot,"  88  note 
Duccio,  school  of,  148,  150 
Duse,  Eleanora,  297 

Ecelini,  the,  in  Bassano,  238,  239 
Ecelino  da  Romano  in  Padua,  237, 
258 

In  Verona,  244,  285,  291,  293 

In  Vicenza,  244,  276 

Reproved  by  S.  Antony,  261 
Erasmo  da  Narni,  259 
Ermagoras,  Bishop  of  Aquileia,  45 
Este,  264,  272,  277 
Este,  the  d',  292 

Este,  Alberto  Azzo,  Marquis  d',  273 
Este,  Almerico  d',  134 
Este,  Anna  Bellorio  d',  204 
Este,  Niccolo  d',  127 
Etna,  286 
Euganean  Hills,  169,  182,  189,  242, 

264-273 
Eugenius  IV.,  Pope,  255 
Evelyn,  John,  on  Padua,  249 

On  Venice,  90,  105 

On  Vicenza,  280 

Faliero,  Beatrice,  191 
Faliero,   Doge   Marino,   conspiracy 
of,  31  >  35.  7o,  246 

House  of,  117 
Faliero,  Doge  Ordelafo,  171 
Faliero,  Doge  Vitale,  114 

Re-discovers  body  of  S.  Mark,  48 
Fambri,  Paolo,  203 
Farnese,  Vittoria,  marriage  of,  1 2 1 
Feltre,  223,  224,  235,  237,  245,  247, 
292 

History  and  position  of,  36 
Ferdinand  I.,  133 
Feria  dell'  Ascensione,  107 
Ferrar,  Nicholas,  in  Padua,  250 
Ferrara,  Marquisate  of,  see  d'Este 
family 

Wars  of,  24,  33,  222,  223 
Florence,  19 

Giotto  in,  251 

Her  great  men,  151,  270 


Florence — continued 

Pitti  Palace,  232 

Uffizi,  161,  235 

University  of,  257 
Florentine  School  of  Painting,  148, 

150 

Fortunatus  of  Grado,  18 
Foscari,  Doge  Francesco,  his  addi- 
tions to  the  Palace,  72,  73, 

75 
Tomb  of,  135 
Francesco  da  Carrara,  treachery  of, 

31,  35,  36,  248,  266 
Francesco  Maria,  Duke  of  Urbino, 

in  Venice,  121 
Francis  I,  Emperor,  58 
Frederic  II,  276,  290 
Frederic  Barbarossa,    Emperor,  in 

Italy,  244,  290 
In  Venice,  109,  181 
Fregoso,  General,  300 
Friuli,  2,  220 
Fusina,  249 

Gabrieli,  the,  203 

Galata,  30 

Galileo,  151 

Galuppi,  Baldassare,  202 

Garda,  Lago  di,  2 

Garibaldi,  monument  to,  97 

Gattamelata,  General,  statue  of,  258, 

259 
Tomb  of,  262 
Gavazza,  Girolamo,  124 
Genoa,  its  rivalry  with  Venice,  27, 

29-35,  212,   217,  221,  223, 

246,  247 
Genseric,  9 
Gentile  da  Fabriano,  his  work  in 

Venice,  76,  82,  154,  155 
Ghibellines  in  Verona,  290 
Ghirlandajo,  152 
Giambattista  of  Verona,  his  work  in 

Verona,  302 
Gibbon,  on  Attila,  220 

On  the  siege  of  Verona,  287-289 
The    Decline    and   Fall   of  the 

Roman  Empire,  1 1  note 
Giocondo,  Fra,  his  work  in  Treviso, 

226 
His  work  in  Verona,  299 
Giolfino,  302 
Giorgione,  his  portraits,  161 


314 


VENICE  AND  VENETIA 


Giorgione — continued 

His  work  in  Castelfranco,  231 ,  234 
in  Venice,  76-82,  114,  121-123, 

147,  149,  160 
inVicenza,  235 
Life  and  position  of,  160,  231-235 
School  of,  in,  112,  113,  123,  158, 
161,  162 
Giotto,  109 

Date  of  his  works,  251 

His  work  in  Padua,  154,  250-254 

in  Verona,  293 
School  of,  148,  150,  152,  154 
Giovanelli,  the,  121 
Giovanelli  Collection,  the,  156,  160, 

233 
Giovanni,  Doge,  portrait  of,  130 
Giovanni  da  Murano,  his  work  in 

Venice,  140,  154 
Giovanni  da  Vicenza,  Fra,  291 
Girolamo  da  S.  Croce,  his  work  in 
Padua,  258 
His  work  in  Venice,  100,  102,  108 
Girolamo  da  Treviso,  his  school,  158 
His  work  in  Venice,  117,  147 
in  Treviso,  227 
Girolamo  dai  Libri,  298,  305,  306 
Giustiniani,  the,  tombs  of,  185 
Giustiniani,    Lorenzo,    portrait  of, 

124,  156 
Goethe,  on  Palladio,  278,  281 
Goldoni,  Carlo,  statue  of,  in,  117 
Gonzaga,  the,  224 
Gradenigo  I,  Doge,  policy  of,  68-70, 

223 
Gradenigo  II,  Doge,  70 
Grado,  5,  13,  15 

Seat  of  Patriarchate,  18,  43 
Gratiani,  260 

Greater  Council  of  Venice,  22-24,  69 
Gregory  VII,  Pope,  290 
Gregory  IX,  Pope,  261 
Gregory  XI,  Pope,  265 
Gregory  XVI,  Pope,  190 
Grimani,  Doge  Antonio,  portrait  of, 

77 
Grimani,  Doge  Marino,  203 

Portrait  of,  7  J 
Gritti,  Doge  Andrea  portrait  of,  79 
Gronau,  Dr.,  on  Titian,   III,  124, 

129,  139,  228  note,  302 
Guardi,  his  work  in  Venice,   168, 

190 


Guariento  of  Padua,   his  work  in 
Bassano,  239,  240 
His  work  destroyed  by  fire,  70, 

82 
His  work  in  Padua,  255 
Portrait  of,  305 
Guelfs  in  Verona,  290 
Guglielmo  da  Castelbarco,  301 
Guidobaldo   II,  Duke  of  Urbino, 


Hampton  Court,  232 

Harold  the  Tall,  99 

Heneti,  the,  4 

Henry  III  of  England,  72 

Henry  IV,  Emperor,  290 

Henry  VII,  Emperor,  death  of,  293 

Henry  VIII  of  England,  21 

Henry  of  Luxembourg,  244 

Heraclea,  early  history  of,  14,   16, 

17 

Hohenstaufen,  the,  292 

Homer,  269 

Hoppner,  Mr.,  271 

Howell,  James,  on   Murano,  197, 

198 
Hutton,   Edward,   ed.    Crowe  and 

Cavalcaselle,      History      of 

Painting  in  Italy,  250  note 
ed.  Memoirs  of  Dukes  of  Urbino, 

121  note 
Florence  and  Northern  Tuscany, 

30  note 

II  Gobbo,  130 

II  Mantagnana,  89 

Innocent  III,  Pope,  28 

Innspruck,  285 

Isonzo  river,  the,  4 

Istrana,  230 

Istria,  14,  90 

Jacopo  da  Carrara,  his  Lordship  of 
Padua,  36, 245-249 
Tomb  of,  255 
James  II,  King  of  Cyprus,  236 
Jeronymite  Order,  the,  141 
Jesolo,  16,  17 
Jones,  Inigo,  278 
Jornandes  on  Aquileia,  1 1  note 
Jovinus,  10 
Julius  Caesar,  2 


INDEX 


315 


Lagoons,  the  Venetian,  formation 

of,  3 
Lagosta,  180 
Lamberti,  the,  298 
Lando,    Doge   Pietro,   portrait  of, 

80 
Lanzi,  on  Giorgione,  235 
Lasso,  di,  234 
La  Verna,  261 
Law,  John,  115 
Leo,  Pope,  9 
Leo  V,  Emperor,  17,  46 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  151 
Leopardi,  Alessandro,  88 
Lepanto,  battle  of,  80,  103,  104 
Liberale,  his  work  in  Verona,  298, 

300,  301,  302 
Libro  d'Oro,  the,  23,  76,  81 
Liesina,  siege  of,  26,  31 
Lincoln  Cathedral,  133 
Lippi,  Filippo,  228 
Lisbon,  259 
Little  Gidding,  250 
Liutprand  the  Lombard,  his  treaty 

with  Venice,  16 
Seizes  Ravenna,  17 
Lombard  League,  290 
Lombardo,   Antonio,   his   work  in 

Venice,  103 
Lombardo,    Martino,  his  work  in 

Venice,  95,  103,  190 
Lombardo,    Moro,    his    work     in 

Venice,  113 
Lombardo,    Pietro,    his    work    in 

Venice,  86,   103,  104,  117, 

134,  135.  190 
Lombardo,  Tommaso,  his  work  in 

Venice,  142 
Lombardo,    Tullio,    his    work    in 

Padua,  262 
His  work  in  Treviso,  226,  227, 

229 
in  Venice,  103,  109 
Lombardy,  plain  of,  2 
Longhena,  Baldassare,  his  work  in 

Venice,  126,  145-147,  216 
Longinus,  15 

Longobards,  the,  in  Verona,  289 
Loredan,  Doge  Leonardo,  portrait 

of,  81,  158 
Tomb  of,  104 
Loredan,    Doge   Lorenzo,   portrait 

of,  80 


Loredan,  Doge  Pietro,  portrait  of, 

80 
Loredani,  the,  tombs  of,  185 
Lotto,  Lorenzo,  his  work  in  Asolo, 

236 
His  work  in  Treviso,  225,  229 
in  Venice,  97,  104,  125,  128, 

141,  161 
Lucca,  271,  293 
Luzzo,  Pietro,  235 
Lysippus,  58 

Macaruzzi,  the,  108 

Maddalo,  Count,  179,  185 

Madonna  del  Monte,  277,  283 

Madrid,  234,  270 

Magnati  di  Murano,  Girolamo,  197 

Malamocco,  209,  212,  213 

Early  settlement  on,  12,  14,  16- 
18 
Malchiostro,  Broccardo,  227 
Malipiero,  Dandola,  203 
Malipiero,  Doge  Pasquale,  203 

Tomb  of,  104 
Manning,  Cardinal,  120 
Mantegna,    Andrea,   his    work    in 
Padua,  255-257 

His  work  in  Verona,  304,  305 

School  of,  240,  279 
Mantegna,  Biagio,  255 
Mantua,  3,  5,  224,  275,  292 
Manuel,  Emperor,  21,  28 
Marcello,  Conte  Alessandro,  203 
Marcello,  Contessa  Adriana,  203 
Marcello,  Doge  Niccolo,  tomb  of 

104 
Marcello,  Jacopo,  tomb  of,  134 
Marconi,  Rocco,  his  work  in  Tre- 
viso, 225 

His  work  in  Venice,  129 
Marcus,  the  vision  of,  14 
Marcus  Aurelius,  7 

Statue  of,  259 
Margherita,  Queen,  203 
Marsilio    da    Carrara    treats    with 
Venice,   34,   223-225,   245- 
249,  293 
Martinelli,  Tommaso,  270 
Martini,  Simone,  109,  228 
Masaccio,  148 
Maser,  236 

Massegne,  his  work  in  Venice,  95, 
104,  133.  136 


316 


VENICE   AND  VENETIA 


Massolo,  Elisabetta,  120 
Massolo,  Lorenzo,  120 
Maurice  the  Cappadocian,  15 
Maurizio,  18 
Mauro,  vision  of,  207 
Maxentius,  287 
Maximilian,  Emperor,  124 
Maximus,  10 
Medici,  the,  19 
At  Este,  272 
Medici,  Alessandro  de',  131 
Medici,  Lorenzino  de',  murder  of, 

131 

Medici,  Lorenzo  de',  poems  01,  152 
Memmo,  Doge  Marcantonio,  tomb 

of,  172 
Memmo,  Doge  Tribune,  171 
Meloria,  battle  of,  30,  68 
Messina,  S.  Francis  at,  260 
Mestre,  219 
Michelangelo   Buonarroti,   position 

and  influence  of,  148,  151, 

161,  164,  227,  234 
Michelozzo  da  Firenze,  172 
Michiel,  Alvise,  tomb  of,  103 
Michiel,  Doge  Domenico,  91,  193 
Michiel  II,  Doge  Vitale,  21 
Milan,  2,  223,  290 
Attila  in,  221 
Duchess  of,  36 
Milton,  John,  149 
Mincio,  the  river,  2 
Minello,  Giovanni,  255 
Minio  da  Padua,  64 
Miscellanea  Francescana,  102  note 
Mocenigo,  Andrea,  79 
Mocenigo  I,  Doge,  93 

His  vandalism,  71-73 
Mocenigo,  Doge  Alvise,  portrait  of, 

79 
Mocenigo,   Doge    Giovanni,    tomb 

of,  103 
Mocenigo,    Doge   Luigi,   tomb  of, 

103 
Mocenigo,  Doge  Pietro,    tomb  of, 

103 
Mocenigo,    Doge  Tommaso,   tomb 

of,  104 
Mocenigo,  Niccolo,  79 
Mogliano,  219 
Molmenti  e   Mantovani,    Le    /sole 

del  la    Laguna     Veneta,    210 

note,  212,  213 


Monaco,  Lorenzo,  228 

Monferrat,    Boniface,    Marquis   of, 

29 
Monselice,  S.  Fermo,  97 
Montagna,  Bartolommeo,  his  work 
in  Verona,  306 

His  work  in  Vicenza,  276,  279, 
282,  283 
Mont'  Cenis  Pass,  1,  287 
Montebello,  284 
Montebelluna,  236 
Monte  Berici,  284 
Montecchi,  the,  faction  of,  284,  290 
Monte  del  Castello,  270 
Monteforte,  284 
Monte  Paolo,  260 
Montpellier,  261 
Moore,  Thomas,  183 
Morelli,  on  Giorgione,  235 

On  Palma  Vecchio,  161 
Moretto,  his  work  in  Venice,  97 

his  work  in  Verona,  303 
Morone,    Francesco,  his    work    in 

Verona,  300,  306 
Morosini,  the,  20 
Morosini,  Admiral  Alberto,  30 
Morosini,  Carlo,  portrait  of,  166 
Morosini,  Cipriani,  191 
Morosini,     Doge     Francesco,     his 

work  in  Venice,  99,  114 
Morosini,  Doge  Michele,  tomb  of, 

104 
Morosini,  Doge  Vincenzo,  portrait 

of,  172 
Morosini,  Morosina,  203 
Morosini,  Ruggiero,  30 
Morto  da  Feltre,  235 
Mozart,  234 
Munich,  no 
Murano,  94,  168 

Charm  of,  1 87-189 

Glass  factories,  189,  191,  197 

S.  Donato,  192-196 

S.  Pietro  Martiro,  190,  192 
Murray,  John,  183 
Muschiera,  Eugenia,  191 

Naldo,  Dionigi,  tomb  of,  104 

Naples,  187,  272 

Napoleon  I,  his  treatment  of  Venice, 

26,   37,  43.  49,  58,  86,  88, 

92,  97,  181,  211 
In  Verona,  297 


INDEX 


3i7 


Narses,  15,  91 
Navagero,  Andrea,  191 
Nero,  Emperor,  45 

His  bronze  horses,  56-58,  259 
Nicephorus,  Emperor,  18 
Niccolo  da  Ponte,  Doge,  portraits  of, 

79,  81 
Nicolotti,  the  faction  of,  143 
Nightingale,  Florence,  204 
Novara,  296 

Obelerio,  Doge,  18 

Portrait  of,  81 
Odoacer,  289 
Olivolo,  18 
Onigo,  Conte  d',  229 
Oriago,  247 
Orseoli,  the,  20 
Orseolo,  Doge  Pietro,  his  hospital, 

88 
Orseolo  II,  Doge  Pietro,  curbs  the 
great  families,  20 

Establishes  maritime   supremacy, 
20,  26,  180-182,  185 
Orsini,  Niccolo,  tomb  of,  104 
Orso,  Doge,  17 
Osa  da  Milano,  Alberto,  244 
Otho  III,  Emperor,  in  Venice,  184, 

185,  193 
Ottobon  family,  the,  162 

Pacchia,  150 
Pacchiarotto,  150 
Pacifico,  Fra,  tomb  of,  134 
Padovano,  the,  2 
Padovano,  Giusto,  258 
Padua,  115,223,  275 

History  of,  5,  11,  34-36,  225,  237, 
238,  243-249,  261 

Arena  Chapel,  250-254 

Attila  in,  221,  243 

Church  of  the  Carmine,  257 

Eremitani,  254-257 

Frescoes  by  Mantegna  in,  255-257 

Giotto  in,  154,  250-254 

II  Santo,  258,  262 

John  Evelyn  in,  249-251 

Palazzo  del  Municipio,  258 

Petrarch  in,  257 

S.  Anthony  in,  249,  261 
Paese,  230 

Paleologus,  Emperor,  31 
Palestrina,  234 


Palladio,  Andrea,  his  bridge  over  the 
Brenta,  240 
His  work  in  Maser,  236 
in    Venice,    38,    73,    77,    102, 

168,  170,  171 
in  Vicenza,  276-282 
Palma   Giovane,    his    work   in   the 
Doge's  Palace,  76-82 
His  work  in  Venetian  Churches, 
125,  163 
Palma  Vecchio,  his  work  in  Padua, 
258 
His  work  in  Venice,    112,   129, 
161,  162,  211,  216 
in  Vicenza,  282 
Paphos,  Bishop  of,  136 
Paris,  The  Louvre,  no,  232,  233 
Parma,  224,  292 
Parmigiano,  pupils  of,  164 
Particiaco,  Doge  Angelo,  20,  96 
Pater,  Walter,  on  art,  160,  233 
Paterani,  the,  in  Verona,  296 
Paul  II,  Pope,  65 
Paul  the  Deacon,  185 
Paulus,  Bishop,  14 
Pavia,  115,  181,  221,  292 
Pax  Romana,  the,  6 
Peacock,  T.  L.,  271 
Pedro,  Don,  259 
Pelestrina,  18,  209,  213-215 
Pentapolis,  siege  of,  17 
Pepin,  his  expedition  against  Venice, 
17-19,  211 
In  Verona,  290,  303 
vPera,  31 
Perugino,  234 
Pesari,  the,  127 
Pesaro,    Benedetto,  tomb  of,    134, 

136 
Pesaro,  Jacopo,  commissions  Titian, 

136 
Petrarch  in  Arqua,  265-270 
In  Padua,  257 
In  Venice,  31 
Philip  the  Arab,  287 
Philippi,  battle  of,  287 
Piacenza,  292 
Piave,  the  river,  3,  223 
Pietro  da  Messina,  112 
Pietro  da  Salo,  130 
Piombo,  Sebastiano  del,  his  work 
in  Treviso,  229 
His  work  in  Venice,  III,  113,  161 


3i8 


VENICE   AND  VENETIA 


Pisa,  history  of,  27,  222,  242,  243 

Pisani,  Niccolo,  31 

Pisani,  Vettor,  31,  32 

Pisano,     Giovanni,    his    work     in 

Padua,  254 
Pisano,  Vittore,  his  work  in  Venice, 
76,  155 

His  work  in  Verona,  301,  305 
Pius  II,  Pope,  152 
Pius  V,  Pope,  255 
Pius  VI,  Pope,  297 
Pius  VII,  Pope,  171 
Pizzolo,  Niccolo,  256 
Po,  the  river,  1 
Pola,  31 

Polenta,  Samaritanada,  296 
Polesine,  the,  2 
Pollentia,  288 
Polo,  Marco,  152 
Pompeianus,  Ruricus,  287 
Pordenone,   his   work  in  Treviso, 
227,  228 

His  work  in  Venice,  130,  135,  162 
Portosecco,  213 
Posilipo,  269 
Possagno,  240 
Preganziol,  219 
Priuli,  Doge,  Antonio,  128 
Priuli,  Doge,  Girolamo,  portrait  of, 
80 

Tomb  of,  III 
Priuli,  Doge,  Lorenzo,  portraits  of, 
76,  80 

Tomb  of,  in 

Quarterly  Review >,  100  note 
Querini,  the,  69 

Ranieri,  the,  203 
Ravenna,  211,  237,  257 
History  of,  5,  13,  17 
Reggio,  292 
Rembrandt,  149 
Renaissance,  the,  in  Venice,  84 
Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  150 
Rialto,   island   of,  first  occupation 

of,  12,  13,   18 
Richard  III,  202 
Ridolfi  on  Giorgione,  231,  235 
Rimini,  123 
Rizzo,  Antonio,  his  work  in  Venice, 

76,  86,  130 
Robert,  King,  Venetian  expedition 

against,  27 


Romano,  Rocca  of,  237 

Rogers,  Dr.,  250 

Rogers,  Samuel,  271 

Roland  and  Oliver  in  Verona,  290, 

302 
Roman  Empire,  the  fall  of,  5-9 
Romanino,  263 
Romano,  Giulio,  190 

Pupils  of,  298 
Rome,  44,  115 

Borghese  Gallery,  161,  232,  233 

Colosseum,  295  note 

Giotto  in,  251 

Piazze  of,  85 
Ronchi,  the,  245 
Rosamund,  Queen,  289 
Rossi,  Pietro,  34 

Rossi,  the,  allied  with  Venice,  224 
Rubens,  P.  P.,  150 
Ruskin,  John,  on  S.  Donato,  193- 
196 

On  Tintoretto,  124,  137,  147 

Stones   of    Venice,   48   note,   68 
note,  70  note,  73  note,  300 
note 
Rustico  da  Torcello,  46 

S.  Agata,  302 

Salvatronda,  230 

Salviati,  his  work  in  Venice,  134 

Salvore,  battle  of,  181 

Sanmicheli,  his  work    in  Verona, 

302,  304,  306 
Sansovino,  Francesco,  his  work  in 
the  Doge's  Palace,  73,  76, 81 

On  Gradenigo  I,  68,  69 

On  Venice,  91,  196 
Sansovino,  Jacopo,  his  Loggia,  89, 

9i 
His  work  in  Venice,  90,  92,  100, 

101,  102,  108,  121,  128,  136, 

142,  211 
Santi,  Andreolo  dei,  his  work   in 

Padua,  255,  262 
S.  Antony  of  Padua,  history  of,  249, 

259-262 
In  Bassano,  239 
Sanuto,  Cronica,  72  note 
Sapienza,  battle  of,  31,  35,  246 
Sardi,  his  work  in  Venice,  1 15 
Sarego,  General,  301 
Sassetta,  83,  148 
Sassoferrato,  his  work  in  Venice,  112 


INDEX 


3i9 


S.  Augustine,  254 

S.  Autolinus,  14 

Savelli,  Prince  Paolo,  statue  of,  134 

S.  Bernardino,  131 

Scala,  Alberto  della,  career  of,  292, 

*  293,  298,  300 

Scala,  Alboino  della,  292 

Scala,  Antonio  della,  296 

Scala,  Bartolommeo  della,  292,  294 

Scala,  Can  Grande  della,  career  of, 

292,  293,  299 
Welcomes  Dante,  223,  285,  292 
Scala,   Can    Grande   II.   della,   in 

Verona,  294,  301,  303 
Scala,     Can     Signorio     della,     in 

Verona,  294,  298,  299,  300 
Scala,  Giovanni  della,  tomb  of,  300 
Scala,  Mastino  della,  his  relations 

with  Venice,  33, 34,  223-225, 

245,  291-294,  300 
Seizes  Padua,  238,  244 
Scaligers,  the,  at  war  with  Venice, 

33.  244 

In  Verona,  284,  298-300 

In  Vicenza,  277 
Scamozzi,  his  work  in  Venice,  86,  92 

His  work  in  Vicenza,  280 
Scarpariola,  Cencia,  204 
S.  Clement,  63 
S.  Cristina,  229 
Scrovegno,   Enrico,   and    Rinaldo, 

250,  254 
S.  Donato,  body  of,  193 
S.  Edward  the  Confessor,  46,  47 
Segala,  64 
Selvaggia,  291 
Semilicolo,  Niccolo,  153 
Sermione,  5 
Seville,  107 
S.  Fermo,  295 

S.  Francis  of  Assisi,  his  influence 
on  S.  Antony,  260,  261 

In  Bassano,  239 

In  Venice,  207 
S  George,  patron  of  Venice,  57 
S.  Girolamo  da  Fiesole,  210 
S.  Giustina,  14 
S.  Gotthard,  the,  1 
S.  Gregory  II,  17 
Shakespeare,  William,  149,  160 

Romeo    and  Juliet,    284,     290, 
297 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  285 


S.  Helena,  186 

Shelley,  P.  B.,  at  Este,  264,  271-273 

In  Venice,  179,  182,  271 

On  Padua,  242 
Shorthouse,  J.  H.,John  Inglesant, 

250 
Sidon,  27 
Siena,  19 
Sienese   School   of    Painting,   the, 

148,  150,  234 
Simplon,  the,  1 
S.  Jean  d'Acre,  59 
S.  John,  martyrdom  of,  64 
S.  John  the  Baptist,  14 
S.  Leo  IX,  in 
S.  Lorenzo  Giustiniani,  portrait  of, 

80 
S.  Magno,  foundations  by,  96,  100, 

111,118 
S.    Mark,    his    body    brought    to 
Venice,  20,  46-48,  56 

Legendary  history  of,  44 
S.  Mark's,  Venice,  Atrium,  52,  59- 
61 

Baptistery,  64 

Bronze  horses,  56-58 

Chapels  of,  63-65 

Cupolas  of,  61,  65 

Its  Byzantine  character,  48-52 

Its  construction,  51,  54-56 

Its  facades,  55-59 

Its  significance  in  Venetian  his- 
tory, 43,  52,  65 

Mosaics  of,  56,  152 

Shrine  of  S.  Mark,  62 
S.  Martino,  284 
S.  Nicholas  of  Tolentino,  255 
Soave,  284 

Soderini,  Alessandro,  131 
Sodoma,  150 
Sophocles,  CEdipus  Tyrannus,  280- 

282 
Soranzo,  Ancilla,  191 
Soranzo,  Doge,  Giovanni,  70 
Soranzo,  Jacopo,  166 
Sordello,  285 
Sovagna,  Marquis  of,  263 
Spalatro,  115 
Spenser,  Edmund,  149 
Speranza,  his  work  in  Vicenza,  282 
S.  Pietro,  214 

S.     Pietro    di    Castello,    seat    of 
Patriarchate,  43 


320 


VENICE   AND  VENETIA 


^ 


Spinelli,  Bianca,  210 

Spinola,  Niccolo,  68 

Splligen,  the,  1 

Sporades,  the,  29 

Sposalizio  del  Mare,  26,  see  Ascen- 
sion Day 

Squarcione,  school  of,  255,  256, 
263 

S.  Roch,  body  of,  137 

S.  Rustico,  295 

St.  Albans,  10 

Steno,  Doge  Michele,  70,  89, 
104 

S.  Theodore,  patron  saint  of  Venice, 

44,  57,  91 
S.  Thomas  of  Villanova,  255 
Stilicho,  288 
Strabo  on  Venice,  4 
Strasburg,  106 
Strong,  on  Giotto,  251 
Suriano,  Jacopo,  tomb  of,  115 
Symonds,   J.    A.,    History    of  the 

Renaissance ',  131 
S.  Zaccaria,  96 
S.  Zeno  of  Verona,  289,  304 

Tagaste,  254 

Taranto,  25 

Tasso  in  Padua,  250 

Tenedor,  Island  of,  31 

Tesolo,  19 

Tessier,  A.,  102  note 

Theodoric  the  Great,  12 

In  Verona,  289,  296,  303 
Theodosius,  10 
Thomas  of  Ravenna,  108 
Tiberio  da  Parma,  124 
Tiepolo,  his  work  in  Padua,  263 
His  work  in   Venice,  118,  126, 
141,  144,  166 
in  Vicenza,  282 
Tiepolo,  Doge  Giacomo,  vision  of, 

102 
Tiepolo,  Lorenzo,  59 
Tiepolo  conspiracy,  the,  69,  1 14 
Tintoretto,  Jacopo,  contrasted  with 
Giorgione,  234 
His  Paradise,  70 

His  work  in  the  Accademia,  149, 
163-166 
in  the  Doge's  Palace,  76-83 
in    the    Scuola  di  S.    Rocco, 
137-139,   165 


Tintoretto,  Jacopo — continued 

in  Venetian  churches,  98,  120, 

124,  125, 128,  129,  139,  141, 

143,  144,  146,   170,  172,  216 

in  Vicenza,  282 

Tomb  of,  124 

Titian,  contrasted  with  Giorgione, 

234 
Death  of,  144 

His  work  in  the  Accademia,  149, 
162 
in  the  Doge's  Palace,  76,  77, 

83 
in  Padua,  258,  263 
in  Rome,  126 
in  Treviso,  227,  228 
in  Venetian  churches,  109,111, 
120,  123,  129,  I35-J39,  142, 
146,  211 
in  Verona,  302 
Influence  of  Giorgione  on,  160, 

161 
Likeness  of,  134 
Pupils  of,  164 
Tomb  of,  133 
Torcello,  143,  187,  199 

History  of,  12,  14,  205,  206 
Totila,  9,  237 
Toulouse,  261 
Tradonico,  Doge  Pietro,  murder  of, 

95 

Trajan,  Emperor,  58,  295 
Tremignan,  Alessandro,  115 
Trepani,  30 
Trevisano,    Doge    Marc    Antonio, 

portrait  of,  80 
Trevisano,  Melchior,  monument  of, 

135 
Treviso,  5,  33,  160,  244,  245,  293 

Churches  of,  226-229 

History  of,  219-225 

Marches  of,  2 

Siege  of,  246 
Tribunes,  the,  government  of,  16 
Tribuno,  Doge  Pietro,  87,  89 
Tron,  Doge  Niccolo,  tomb  of,  135 
Tuscany,   Bianca,   Grand  Duchess 

of,  95 
Francesco,  Grand  Duke  of,  203 
Tyre,  fall  of,  27,  65,  91 

Ubertino  da  Carrara,  tomb  of,  255 
Uccello,  Paolo,  256 


INDEX 


321 


Umbrian  School  of  Painting,  148, 

154 
Urbino,  Dukes  of,  their  Palazzo  in 

Venice,  121 

Valencia  Bull  Ring,  295  note 
Valier,  the,  tomb  of,  103 
Valle,  Andrea  della,  258 
Vandyck,  150 
Vasari  on  Bellini,  96 

On  Catena,  158 

On  Giorgione,  231,  232,  234 

On  Titian,   77,    109,    no,   123, 
146 
Vecelli,  Francesco,  no 
Vecelli,  Marco,  80 
Vecelli,  Rocco,  130 
Vedelago,  230,  232 
Velasquez,  129,  150 
Vendramin,  Doge,  Andrea,  tomb  of, 

104 
Venetia  as  a  Roman  province,  4 

Geographical  position  of,  2 
Venetian  lace,  202-205 
Venetian   School  of  Painting,  con- 
trasted with   other  schools, 
148-154 

Influences  on,  154-156 

Its  national  character,  151,  153, 

Veneziano,    Lorenzo,   his    work  in 
Venice,  151,  153 
His  work  in  Vicenza,  279 
Venice,  City  of— 

Accademia,  153-166 
Armenian  convent,  183 
Arsenal,  99 
Batario,  86 
Bridge  of  Sighs,  73 
Brolo,  87 

Bronze  Horses,  92 
Cad'Oro,  116,  118 
Campanile,  85,  88-91 
Campo  S.  Gallo,  88 

di  S.  Margherita,  140 

di  S.  Maria  Zobenigo,  85 

di  S.  Moise,  85 

diS.  Polo,  130-132 
Casino  degli  Spiriti,  118-120 
Churches  of — 

Carmine,  141 

I  Frari,  102,  132-137,  153,  163 

I  Gesuati,  143,  144 


Churches — continued 
I  Gesuiti,  116,  120 
La  Pieta,  97 

Redentore,  145,  170,  173 
Scalzi,  126 
S.  Antonino,  100,  101 
S.  Aponal,  130 
SS.  Apostoli,  116-118 
S.  Bartolommeo,  III,  161 
S.  Basso,  93 
S.  Biagio,  97,  101 
S.  Canciano,  117 
S.  Cassiano,  128 
S.  Cater ina,  121 
S.  Cristofero,  190 
S.  Demetrio,  in 
S.  Elena,  130 
S.  Eufemia,  169,  173 
S.  Felice,  11 6,  121 
S.  Fosca,  123 
S.  Francesco  da  Paola,  97 
S.  Francesco  della  Vigna,  102 
S.  Geminiano,  87,  88 
S.  Geremia,  126 
S.   Giacomo    dell'   Orio,    128, 

161 
S.  Giacomo  di  Rialto,  130 
S.  Giobbe,  125,  137,  141 
S.  Giorgio  dei  Greci,  100 
S.  Giorgio  degli  Schiavoni,  IOI, 

*52 
S.  Giovanni  in  Bragora,  100 
S.  Giovanni   Crisostomo,  112- 

114,  116,  117,  161 
S.  Giovanni  Decollato,  128 
S.  Giovanni  di  Malta,  101 
SS.   Giovanni  e  Paolo,    102- 

104,  161 
S.  Giovanni  in  Rialto,  129 
S.  Giuseppe  di  Castello,  98, 143 
S.  Gregorio,  147 
S.  Leo,  in 

S.  Marcuola,  116,  126,  162 
S.  Margherita,  140 
S.  Maria  della  Carita,  109 
S.  Maria    Formosa,   99,    in, 

112,  161 
S.  Maria  Maggiore,  163 
S.  Maria  Mater  Domini,  159 
S.  Maria  dei  Miracoli,  116,  117 
S.  Maria     della    Salute,    137, 

144-147,211 
S.  Maria  Zobenigo,  115 


322 


VENICE   AND  VENETIA 


Churches — con  tinned 

S.    Mark's   Cathedral,    42-66, 
see  S.  Mark's 

S.  Martino,  100 

S.  Marzida,  123 

S.  Maurizio,  1 15 

S.  Michele,  119 

S.  Moise,  115 

S.  Niccolo, 176 
Ognissanti,  143 

S.  Pantaleone,  130,  140 

S.  Pietro  di  Castello,  98 

S.  Polo,  132 

S.  Rocco,  137,  139,  141,  160 

S.  Salvatore,  106,  109 

S.  Sebastiano,  137,  141 

S.  Sofia,  118 

S.  Stefano,  114,115 

S.  Teodoro,  47,  86 

S.  Toma,  133,  134,  137 

SS.  Trinita,  147 

S.  Trovaso,  143,  155 

S.  Ursula,  101 

S.  Vitale,  114 

S.  Zaccaria,  95 

S.  Zulian,  105-108 
Clock  Tower  of,  86,  106 
Columns  of  S.  Theodore  and  S. 

Mark,  91 
Corso  Vittorio  Emmanuele,  118 
Dogana,  146,  147 
Doge's   Palace,    the,  67-83,   see 

Doge 
Flagstaff's,  88 
Fondaco  dei  Tedeschi,  105,  112, 

113 
Fondaco  dei  Turchi,  68,  127 

Fondamenta  Nuove,  116,  118 

Forte  S.  Niccolo,  180 

Galleria  Manfredini,  147 

Ghetto,  115,  125 

Giardini  Pubblici,  97,  173 

Grand  Canal,  168 

Giudecca,  94,  125,  144,  168-175, 

187 

II  Molo,  85,  92 

I  Murazzi,  209,  214 

Islands  of — 

Burano,  199 

Castello,  98 

La  Grazia,  210 

Lazzaretto  Vecchio,  211 

Murano,  1 87-1 98 


Islands — continued 

Olivolo,  98 

Poveglia,  211 

S.  Clemente,  210,  211 

S.  Elena,  185 

S.      Francesco    del     Desert  o, 
I3»  199,  207 

S.     Giorgio     Maggiore,     168, 
171,  172 

S.  Lazzaro,  175,  177,  183 

S.  Michele,  187,  189,  190 

S.  Servolo,  177,  184,  185 

S.  Spirito,  211 
Lagoon,  3,  201,  209 
Libreria  Vecchia,  91,  92 
Lido,  169,  175-182 
Lions,  99 

Loggia  of  Sansovino,  89,  91 
Madonna  del  Orto,  116,  124 
Merceria,  105-109 
Museo  Civico,  127,  155 
Nuova  Fabbrica,  86,  88 
Palazzo  Bianca  Capello,  95 

Corner  Mocenigo,  130 

Falier,  117 

Fasetti,  68 

Giovanelli,  116,  121 

Labbia,  126,  141 

Lo redan,  68 

Patriarchale,  93 

Sagredo,  118 

Soranzo,  130 

Trevisani,  95 

Urbino,  1 21 

Vendramin,  116 

Ziani,  68,  71,  72 
Piazza  di  S.  Marco,  84-93 
Piazzetta,  the,  85,  91-93 
Piazzetta  dei  Leoni,  85,  93 
Ponte  di  Rialto,  105,  114,  130 
Porto  di  Chioggia,  209 

di  Lido,  178,  180 

Leone,  99 

di  Malomocco,   178,  209 
Procuratie  Vecchie,  and  Nuove, 86 
Rialto,  129 

Riva  degli  Schiavoni,  92,  95,  97 
Sacca  della   Misericordia,  118 
Scuola  del  Carmine,  141 

di  S.  Marco,  103 

di   S.  Rocco,   123,    124,   137- 
I39.I53.  165 

di  S.  Teodoro,  44 


INDEX 


323 


Sestieri  of,  94 

di  Cannaregio,  94,  112,    116- 

126 
di  Castello,  94-104 
di  Dorsoduro,  127,  140-147 
di  S.  Croce,  94,  127-132 
di  S.  Marco,  105-115 
di  S.  Polo,  94,  127,  132-139 
Seminario  Patriarchale,  147,  233 
Zattere,  144 
Zecca,  92 
Venice,  Republic  of— 

Contrasted  with  Florence,  151 
Crushes  Genoa,  29-35 
Foundation  of,  10-19,  221 
Her      Byzantine      and      Italian 

periods,  38,  42 
Her  capture  of  Constantinople 

29 
Her  commercial  importance,  25, 

46 
Her  decay,  38-41 
Her  division  into  sestieri,  22 
Her  independent  position,  37 
Her  libro  d'Oro,  23,  76,  81 
Her  mainland  policy,  27,  33-37, 

222-226,  245-249 
Her    maritime     power,     19-21, 

25-32 
Her    oligarchic  government,  16, 

19-24,  69 
Her    relations    with   Byzantium, 

15,  16,  18,  27-29,  37 
Her  treaty  with  Liutprand,  16 
Patrons  of,  14,  20,  43,  44 
Plague  in,  144    170 
Sumptuary  laws  of,  202 
Venier,    Doge   Antonio,    tomb    of, 

104 
Venier,   Doge  Francesco,    portrait 
of,  80 
Tomb  of,  ill 
Venier,  Doge  Sebastiano,   portrait 

of,  80 
Venier,  Mois£,  115 
Vercelli,  261 
Verona,  3,  5,  11,  36 

Arena,  287,  295-297,  305 
As  a  Roman  colony,  286,  287,  295 
Attila  in,  221,  289 
Duomo,  302 

History  of,  226.  237,   245,   261, 
275,  285-294 


Verona — continued 

Its    relations  witn    Venice,  223, 
225,  248,  293,  294,  298 

Pinacoteca,  305 

Scaligers  in,  33 

Sieges  of,  8,  287-290 

S.  Anastasia,  300,  301 

S.  Eufemia,  303 

S.  Fermo,  305 

S.  Giorgio  in  Braida,  306 

S.  Lorenzo,  303 

S.  Maria  Antica,  299 

SS.  Nazaro  and  Celso,  306 

S.  Toma,  297,  305 

S.  Zeno,  303 
Veronese,  Paolo,  father  of,  300 

His  work  in  the  Accademia,  149, 
163,  166 
in  the  Doge's  Palace,  76,  78- 

83 
at  Maser,  236 
in  Padua,  263 
in  Venetian  churches,  98,   102, 

118,  ESI,  140,  141,  142,  166, 

193 
in  Verona,  305 
in  Vicenza,  282 
Tomb  of,  141,  142 
Veronese,  the,  2 
Verrochio,    Andrea,    his   work    in 

Venice,  103,  141 
Vespasian,  Emperor,  287 
Vicenza,  5,  11,  237,  244,  274-283, 
292 
Attila     overthrows,     36,     221, 

289 
Birthplace  of  Mantegna,  255 
Charm  of,  274-278 
Covets  Bassano,  238 
Loschi  Collection,  235 
Relations  with  Venice,  36,  223, 

225,  248,  276 
Sights  of,  277-283 
Vienna,  190 
Vigasio,  battle  of,  290 
Villani,  Giovanni,  on  della   Scala, 

293 

On  Ecelino  da  Romano,  237 

On  the  Paterani,  296 
Vincent,  Sir  Francis,  180 
Virgil,  5,  275 
Visconti,  Bernabo,  294 
Visconti,  Giovanni,  31 


324 


VENICE  AND  VENETIA 


Visconti,  the,  223,  292 
In  Verona,  294 

Power  of,  34,  238,  245,  247,  276 
Vitruvius,  278,  281 
Vittoria,   Alessandro,   his  work  in 

Venice,  108,  134 
Vivarini,  Alvise,  his  work  in  Venice, 
100,  104,  135,  158,  171,  190 
Pupils  of,  158,  159,  162 
Vivarini,    Antonio,    his     work    in 

Venice,  97,  154 
Vivarini,  Bartolommeo,  his  work  in 
Venice,  100,  104,  112,  115, 

.  '34,  135 
Vivarini,  the,  school  of,  103,  156 
Voragine,  on  S.  Mark,  44 

Waterloo,  92 

Wells  Cathedral,  133 


Westminster  Abbey,  133 
Windsor,  89 

Windsor,  Baron,  tomb  of,  104 
Wren,  Christopher,  278 

Zanelli,  Abate  Vincenzo,  on  Murano, 

191 
Zanetto,  Bishop,  tomb  of,  227 
Zara,  capture  of,  29 

Peace  of,  35,  246 
Zarotto,  235 
Zecchino,  the,  92 
Zen,  Cardinal,  tomb  of,  58,  65 
Zeno,  Carlo,  32,  35 

Tomb  of,  100 
Ziani,  Doge  Pietro,  102,  171 
Ziani,  Doge   Sebastiano,  weds  the 

sea,  68,  109,  181 
Ziani,  Marco,  102 


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